Changing Time
by Lucinda
Summary: sharp divergence during Becoming. Buffy didn't fight Angelus, the Watchers were wrong about Acathala's portal, and Kendra was never prepared for this...
1. part 1

author: Lucinda

rating: safe for most - if you could watch, you can read.

main characters: Kendra, Charles Xavier

disclaimers: Kendra was created by Joss, Charles Xavier (of course) belongs to Marvel Comics.

distribution:

notes: TtH FfA pairing # 1029. A sharp AU during Becoming, set in early X-years.

"Willow needs to try the ritual, and one of us needs to be here to guard her," Buffy's words were mainly directed to Mr. Giles, the Watcher.

Kendra frowned, still uncertain why her sister Slayer was trying to restore the soul of the demon terrorizing her friends. It would be so much simpler to just kill him and be done with it. When the fact that the vampire with the angelic face now had a demon that could endanger the world if he was awakened, there was no question - he had to be stopped. "If you think this ritual is so very important, then you should stay and protect her for the casting."

"What do you mean?" Buffy blinked, as if she hadn't expected any questions. Maybe she hadn't, Willow seemed caught between hope that she could do the spell and a dreadful, silent fear of the things that could happen if they didn't stop Angelus.

She tried to keep her explanation simple. "You are more familiar with this library and the foes that might attack. Angelus is more familiar with how you fight. If I go, he will not know what to expect, and I might be better able to fight him."

"But Angel is my boyfriend," Buffy argued.

"If the spell fails, if she is attacked, could you strike him down? Could you look past the familiar face and do your duty to protect the world?" Kendra's questions were harsh, but the stakes were terrifying. If they failed, the world would be lost.

"I..." Buffy faltered. "I don't know."

"Then stay here, protect your friend. I will go and fight the demon. His face will not prevent me from fighting," Kendra argued. "If her spell does not work, we must still prevent Acathla from awakening."

Buffy considered, her eyes filled with worry. "I guess she's right."

Kendra nodded, resisting the urge to smile. Just because Buffy had agreed that she was a better choice to fight the vampire didn't solve all their problems. Angelus still had a demon that could suck the world into what was listed as a place of great torment. Someone still needed to fight him and any of his minions, for the world's future.

She picked up a nice axe, deciding the Mr. Pointy probably wouldn't be quite enough against all of the minions. "Wish me luck."

The mansion looked ominous, dark with broken windows and a yard overgrown with tall grass and weeds. She could feel the vampires, though there were only a few. Kendra felt guilty at her relief that they were probably out hunting. For a moment, she cherished the idea of kicking in the door and going in with a yell, but perhaps stealth might be more useful.

There was a battered dark car sitting in the driveway, and as she moved closer to the house, the door was kicked out. A blond vampire moved out, carrying a woman in a flowing dress. He snarled at her for a moment, and then stepped towards the car. She remembered seeing him at the old church, which meant that the woman was probably the vampire that had kidnapped Angel before he had become evil once again.

"You again," the blond vampire growled. "Much as the challenge of a good fight gives me a warm feeling, this once, I'll take a rain check. You go keep the bloody idiot from ending the world, and I'll fight you some other time."

"Why should I trust you?" Kendra held the axe ready, dreading the moment when the bond vampire would bellow out something to alert the whole house to her presence. "You are a vampire, a demon."

"I went through this once with the other one. Fine, it's like this – I like this world. There's Manchester United, rock'n'roll, whiskey, and lots of people, running around like happy meals on legs. I don't like you, I don't like Slayers, but I don't want to be sucked into hell." He shifted his grip on the female vampire, and nodded towards the door. "You go stop him, and the world keeps going."

As much as she disliked agreeing with anything a vampire said, he had a few points. Moving towards the door, she muttered, "I do not like him, and he should be killed. After I make sure the world will still be here."

The sound of a car roaring away from the house gave Kendra the feeling that the blond vampire was smarter than most would give him credit for. He'd left, taking his lover with him. She just wished it didn't feel so much like a rat deserting the sinking ship.

There were two minions, both easy to dispatch. Angelus was in a large room, an old sword in his hand as he looked at a large, ugly statue. Blinking, Kendra realized that the ugly statue was the demon Acathla, and the sword had been driven deep into the demon's heart.

Angelus had removed the sword. Damn.

She had to defeat Angelus before the world was doomed. The only good news was that the portal had not yet opened. With luck, she would be able to figure out how to close it before it was too late. Something about the blood of the worthy…

He didn't turn around. "I can feel you. It's too late to stop me, lover."

"I think you have me confused with someone else," Kendra observed, slashing at him with the axe.

"What?" He spun around, blocking with the sword. "You… I don't think you're up to stopping me, Slayer."

They fought, her axe and Slayer reflexes against his sword and vampire strength. If the stakes were not so high, she would have found the challenge he presented enjoyable. Angelus was a skilled opponent, and a part of her enjoyed the dance of fighting.

"I will not let you do this. I will not let the world perish while I can try to save it," Kendra insisted.

"What makes you think you can stop me?" His voice was a challenge. "You have no friends, no allies, nobody to watch your back. You aren't good enough to take me down, destined calling or not."

Kendra's eyes narrowed, and she kicked at him, hoping the distraction would give her an opening. Something about his words… He thought that she wasn't good enough. Of course she was good enough; she was the Slayer. If the Powers hadn't found her worthy, she wouldn't have been Chosen. Worthy…

Kendra could feel the beginning of a plan forming. It was dangerous, filled with foolish risks and a desperate hope. It was crazy. Unfortunately, it was the best plan that she could think of. Subtly, she started to maneuver so that her back was to the statue of Acathla, despite the way it made her spine feel covered with ice water. She would only get one chance, and she had to be able to take advantage of it.

It was too bad about Buffy's hopes for a restoration of Angel's soul. The world's safety had to come first.

Purposefully, she overextended one of her blows, leaving her defenses open. Silently, Kendra prayed that she was right, that she was worthy. With a gleeful smirk, Angelus stabbed at her stomach, his features shifting to the ridges and fangs of a vampire.

"No need to rush, Slayer," Angelus taunted.

Kendra reached out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him closer, forcing the sword deeper into her stomach. The pain was sharp, radiating like waves, spreading to fill her body, and pulsing. "I want to get this over with."

He didn't see her other hand moving until the axe was almost at his neck. All he could do was turn sideways as his head was severed, blood spraying over Kendra, the sword, and the demon Acathla.

Kendra felt herself falling backwards, and she could see a ring of light surrounding her, walls of fire around a shrinking view of the room, a puff of dust in the air. Then, everything went dark.

End part 1.


	2. parts 2 to 4

She woke up laying in a soft bed, in an unfamiliar pale room. Kendra pondered that for a while, not having expected to wake up at all. But she was definitely awake, feeling drowsy, warm, confused, and a bit thirsty. Slowly, her hand reached out, touching her tender stomach. There were bandages, and her careful touch sent out a throbbing pain.

Kendra closed her eyes and fought the nausea down. Her breathing was faster and a bit uneven, and she could feel her heartbeat pounding in her throat. She was alive, injured, and had no idea where she was. On the bright side, the world hadn't been sucked into a realm of torment, and she hadn't been turned into a vampire.

Creaking, a door opened. Kendra looked over, seeing a bald man standing there. He was well dressed, though there was something slightly off about his clothing, and he was looking at her with concern. She'd never seen him before in her life.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Miss. I was wondering if you could tell me who you are?" The man had a pleasant voice, and the way that he shaped his words made it clear that he wasn't English, Jamaican, or someone from the Californian area where Buffy had been, where she had been the last she knew.

"I am Kendra," she paused, uncertain how much to reveal to the strange man. "Where am I, and how did I get here?"

"You're in my home, in Westchester, New York. You… don't remember?" One eyebrow arched, and he walked closer, settling on the edge of the bed. "How does your stomach feel?"

Looking at him, Kendra decided that despite his lack of hair, he couldn't have been more than ten years older than she was, possibly not even that much. "I can still feel the pain, but it is duller now. More like a fist. What I remember is a bit confused, and I don't remember you, or how I got here. There was an empty house, and a fight…"

"I was walking back from getting the mail and there was a fiery ring in the air, it got larger, you fell out with a bleeding stomach wound, and the portal closed. You were already unconscious, so I attempted to tend your wound and brought you inside." He paused, and looked at her. "You didn't have any identification with you."

Kendra considered what he'd said, and looked around the room. There were several things that seemed a bit off, though she couldn't have explained why. Part of her wanted to explain it away as simply the different location, combined with her lack of familiarity with large houses.

Her gaze fell on the calendar, with the prominent date. June, 1955.

"You said dere was a portal?" Kendra glanced at the man, seeing that he was watching her intently, as if he could see the thoughts in her mind. "Is de calendar… It is really 1955?"

"Yes, it really is." For a moment, he was silent, and then he looked almost embarrassed. "And my name is Charles Xavier."

Kendra was silent, thinking about what the date meant. She'd been flung back in time over forty years. Nobody that she knew would be in a position to be of any help, those who had been born would only be children. She hadn't even been born yet. Then, she frowned as something else occurred to her. "You seem very calm about de portal."

"I'd assumed that it was yours," Charles offered, and then frowned. "If you didn't make it, what did?"

"No, it was not my creation," Kendra insisted. If the portal had sent her here, where was the fiery torment and unending misery? Had it simply sent her into an alternate dimension? Or simply into the past of the same world? "I am not a witch to be able to make such a t'ing."

"I thought you might be a mutant."

Kendra blinked at the words. They had been so soft that she wasn't certain she'd actually heard them. "A mutant? I'm not familiar with the term."

"There are a few people that are born a little bit different from the rest of the human race. These people are capable of doing things that others can't, special things. There aren't many of us out there, not that I know of, at least. I'm a mutant," Charles admitted. "I've met another who could manipulate metals with his thoughts, and a telepath that sold information in a Middle Eastern market. I thought maybe you could make portals."

Kendra reached out, steadying herself with the bedpost as she slowly sat up. It made the pain intensify, but it helped clear her thoughts a little bit. "How are these mutants chosen? What determines their abilities?"

"It's just a twist of fate, chance. Mutants are just people, who can do something that everyone else can't. Some are bad, and some are good, or at least, I try." He hesitated, as if unsure of something. "You shouldn't be sitting up, you're still wounded."

"I heal fast," Kendra offered. "I think better sitting or standing than laying down."

"I wouldn't recommend standing up yet," Charles commented, one hand raising as if to try to stop her.

"No, not today," Kendra agreed, contemplating the feeling of the wound. "Maybe tomorrow."

"That's too soon! Nobody heals that fast," he objected.

"I said standing, not fighting," Kendra smiled, thinking of all the years of practices in all sorts of weather, with an assortment of bruises and scrapes. Granted, this wound was a bit more severe, but she'd taken a few other nasty wounds as a Slayer.

"Slayer?" he whispered, blue eyes meeting hers with an expression of shock. "What have you been doing?"

There was an odd sensation, and the closest thing she could compare it to was someone touching her shoulder and ruffling her hair. Images flickered, of her time training with Mr. Zabuto, slaying vampires, fighting demons. She fought a wave of dizziness, and closed her eyes.

"Where did you come from?" Charles gasped, staring at her.

Buffy would have been proud of the way that she looked up at him, calmly answering, "Jamaica."

End part 2.

"Jamaica?" Charles arched one eyebrow, a smile trying to spread across his lips.

Kendra nodded, crossing her arms to do a quick inspection of her arms and shoulders for any particular pains. She couldn't remember landing, and it was possible that she could have picked up additional injuries. "I suspect it might not be Jamaica of dis world. The portal was supposed to open into another dimension, a horrible one."

"Horrible?" Charles pursed his lips, glancing around the room. "Some of the neighbors are a bit unfriendly, but I hadn't considered this place horrible since my step-father died."

"Everyt'ing we could find said that if the portal opened, it would lead to a hell dimension. Everyt'ing." Kendra paused, and glanced at the room, and then out the window at the lovely green lawn, with trees and the faint shimmer of water in the distance. "But looking here, either something interfered and made things change, or the information was not accurate. This does not look like hell."

"Not enough fire?" Charles asked, eyes sparkling with humor.

Kendra nodded, and then asked, "Would you tell me more about these… mutants?"

Charles nodded, "Of course. Mutants are people, born to ordinary families, who possess a special difference. I believe the explanation will be found in the genes, but I'm still trying to find proof. These special individuals have abilities beyond those of ordinary humans, beyond those of their parents."

Kendra considered his words, and thought about what little she knew of ordinary people. She knew a great deal more about demons, but… "Are the ordinary people afraid of mutants?"

"Unfortunately, some of them are," Charles admitted.

"Are there many mutants? What is being done about the people's fears?" Kendra could feel her confusion growing, and something was nagging at her memory about the time… something about the situation of the world half a century ago that was important…

"As far as I know, there aren't a great many mutants, and there is rather limited public knowledge. So far, most seem to be keeping a low public profile." Charles sighed, and tugged a blanket towards her. "You should really rest. There will be plenty of time to discuss things when you aren't ready to fall over from a stomach wound. I'm amazed that you haven't torn it open again by sitting up."

"I will rest, but… is there perhaps something that I could read for a while, a newspaper?" Kendra settled a little more comfortably in the bed. He was right that she needed her rest, though her wound wasn't quite as fragile as he seemed to think. "Maybe something light to eat…"

"Of course. You be sure to get some rest, Kendra," Charles smiled, and started back towards the doorway. "I have the feeling that we're going to have a very interesting discussion once you're feeling better."

Some fragments of history from the fifties floated into Kendra's mind, and she sighed. Civil rights protests and movements. De-segregation of American schools. Changes in laws. Things that were in the past for her, now in either the present or the future. If she was very lucky, there wouldn't be quite as many demons and vampires as she was used to fighting…

Kendra had the feeling that her life was going to be confusing and interesting in the near future. She was used to 'interesting', it was often just another way to say dangerous. But the whole situation would be different, and the people that she would be dealing with wouldn't see her as Kendra, the Vampire Slayer, but… they would see her as just another young woman with dark skin. She had the feeling that things would be rather frustrating for Kendra, young woman with dark skin.

End part 3.

Kendra had a nice breakfast, complete with some wonderful tea. Charles stayed while she ate, and they spoke blandly about the weather, with Kendra asking him what sort of things she should expect from the weather for this time of year. After all, she'd never been to the state of New York before. Eventually, he left, leaving her with a copy of the daily newspaper to read, and the soft caution 'not to try to push yourself to recover too quickly, lest she hurt herself further.'

Charles Xavier had no idea what she was capable of doing.

Kendra began to read the paper, skimming over sections about sports, paying a bit more attention to the weather. She ignored the stock market reports, and glanced over the business section, more to get an idea of the names and companies than any deeper interest in the pursuit of money. Then she started in on the sections about the current politics and events.

Before she could finish the paper, she'd grown so angry at the short sighted idiocy of Americans that she'd crumpled the whole thing into a ball and flung it away from her. It sailed out the open door, bouncing on the wall, and she could hear it rolling down the hallway, before rattling down a flight of stairs. "What sort of fool t'inks that having darker skin makes a person less capable?"

Muttering curses against blind fools, she slid out of the bed, feeling the wooden floor beneath her bare toes. Moving slowly, she made her way out of the room, and followed the path of the crumpled paper, seeking a way to get a bit of fresh air. If she stepped outside, it might calm her. There was some pain from her stomach, of course, but mostly she just felt so stiff, as if she hadn't moved in a long time… Of course, she really hadn't.

The stairs were polished stone, cool against her feet. So was the floor below, of an imposing entry hall designed to awe anyone who set foot inside. It didn't awe or humble Kendra, though she had to admit that it was a lovely bit of architecture. The double doors were unlocked, and she carefully opened one, not wanting to tug too much at her healing stomach.

The grounds outside were beautiful, in a way that was completely different that her home. The trees were thick and green, none of them the familiar palms, and the air was cooler, with different smells. Flowers grew in carefully organized beds, everything neat and organized to precision. Mr. Zabuto would have approved, though she thought the effect was a bit stiff.

There was a long driveway, gently curving towards a brick wall with ornate gates. The overall effect was more ornamental and property defining than an actual barrier, the wall was no more than ten feet high, and the top was a smooth platform. While curving upwards to a few feet higher, the gates were also ornamental, though only a woman or child would have been able to slip between the bars. Deciding that she had nothing better to do than take a closer look at the gate and wall, Kendra started to jog towards it.

As she'd suspected, the gate was mostly ornamental. The bars were sturdy enough that an ordinary human wouldn't be able to bend them, though she would be able to if she wanted, and it certainly wouldn't keep a determined person out. A slender person could slip underneath the gate, or between some of the bars, while any other healthy individual could simply climb over the top.

Kendra jogged back, deciding that she might as well make a few laps of to the gate and back to the mansion for exercise. Her stomach probably wouldn't be up to any of her fighting patterns today, and she didn't know if Charles had a room set aside and furnished with exercise machines or not. With a bit more healing, she might consider swimming in the lake that she'd seen, though she lacked any swimwear. Kendra hated the vulnerable feeling of swimming naked, without even a place to fasten a stake or a knife. To do so in a place where she really didn't know any people or the area… the idea was much too risky.

"Kendra? Are you… are you sure it's wise for you to be doing that?" Charles sounded shocked.

"I am only jogging," Kendra smiled. The worry was actually nice, making her feel like maybe he cared if she lived or died. "I did tell you that I heal faster than most. Perhaps there is a room where you exercise?"

"Ahhh, yes, but… You looked like you'd been stabbed. How can you be up and moving around as if everything's just fine?" Charles walked closer, rubbing the back of his head.

"If nothing were wrong, I could run faster," Kendra muttered. "This may be what you are used to as fine, but not for me."

Charles blinked, and looked at her, his eyes taking in the defined muscles. "You mentioned being stronger. How much stronger?"

"If I did not t'ink you might like the gate the way it is, I could break it down. I could bend the bars of it. Would it not be a poor repayment for helping me, I could lift you over me head and throw you a good distance away," Kendra offered, unsure how to explain her abilities to one who knew nothing of the supernatural.

Charles was clearly unable to find words. His mouth opened and closed several times, and he looked from her to the gate and back again. Finally, he managed, "Your injury?"

With a small shrug, she replied, "It would be painful to need to do either one today, but I could manage. Would you help me take the bandaging off?"

"Inside would be better for that," he murmured.

Kendra nodded, and followed Charles inside, and into a small room with medical books and some first aide supplies. It was hardly the equal to a real medical clinic, but it was easily as good as what Mr. Zabuto had been able to assemble. Charles carefully removed the bandaging, goggling at the fact that her wound was closed over. It wasn't a raw scab, or simply no longer bleeding, but a pale pink of tender new skin, slightly rougher and raised from the rest of her.

Using a mirror to get a better look at the healing wound, Kendra sighed, "I wonder if it will leave a scar or if it will heal away? I have not had one quite so bad before."

Charles shook his head, and uttered a soft, amazed "Astonishing."

End part 4.


	3. parts 5 and 6

"I did tell you I heal faster," Kendra replied, watching Charles.

"Yes, but… I didn't think you would heal that fast. You said it was something that happened as a result of being a Slayer? What exactly does that mean?" Charles leaned closer, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Let me tell you a little about where I am from, and remember that I do not know how much this world is like the one I am from," Kendra began, shifting a bit in the chair.

"Of course. Some things would be easier to check than others. Go ahead," he nodded, looking as if he wanted to take notes.

"The world is an old place, and in the beginning, it was ruled by darkness. Things that hunted and fought, killing for food or pleasure, preying on everything that was weaker than they were. The first humans lived in the shadows of these things, fearing them and hiding as much as they could. Somet'ing happened, and some of the most powerful of the dark things went away, leaving this world for others. The lesser monsters, called demons, began to multiply, no longer preyed upon by the greater, and

they feasted upon the humans. Some of them left… bits of themselves in their prey, and the humans changed. They became something else, new types of demons, and they hunted what had once been their families, feasting on them as did the others." Kendra paused, seeing the horrified expression on Charles's face. "This is the history I was taught when I was young. I hope that the history of your world is different, kinder."

"It certainly isn't the history that I was taught," Charles stammered.

Kendra took up the history again, "The humans in those long ago days had tried many things to protect themselves. They had scattered, spreading into tribes and nations over the world, but that was not enough. Finally, many of the wisest leaders and the most powerful mages came together. They prayed for guidance and protection, and the mages cast spells to aid the prayers, and the first Slayer was Called. A woman, chosen to protect and defend humanity from the demons that would feed upon them. When one falls, another is Called, and so it has been from that day onwards. As long as the demons and vampires threaten humans, there shall be a Slayer."

"How is a Slayer Called, and if a woman is fighting these demons, why didn't they just gather up armies, or groups of warriors?" Charles asked, looking shaken. "And what of mutants? You said that a Slayer would hunt those who had once been humans…"

"No, it is not the same, Charles. You worry about mutants, but a Slayer is not intended to fight mutants, only demons. Slayers… many are born with the potential, but only one is called at a time. One chosen to defend the helpless," She paused, her lips and throat feeling dry. "A Slayer is Called when one dies. When I die, there will be another… or there would be in my own world. I don't know if it will be the same here."

"How does a Slayer decide what is a demon though?" Charles was frowning.

"Simple, if they try to eat someone, they are a demon. If they try to force you to carry their spawn inside you, devouring your flesh until it is ready to emerge, it is a demon," Kendra shrugged unclenching her fists. "In the depths of the Sahara, there are a tribe of nomads whose ancestors were changed. They have eyes like a snake, and can taste the barest trace of moisture on the wind. Their skin is patterned in blue and purple, like a snake. But they are human, and not demon, because they do not feed on people, but on the plants and game of the land. In the jungles of India, there are a small people who can change into brightly feathered birds, though nobody knows how or why. They feed upon flowers and nuts, and so they are not demons."

"And if one of those blue patterned people were in danger?" His voice was low, as if he wasn't certain he wanted to hear the answer.

"If I were there, I would try to help them. But I have never been to the Sahara," Kendra replied. "I have been needed elsewhere."

"Good to know," he seemed to relax, and then looked at her, "really blue?"

She couldn't keep herself from laughing.

End part 5.

It was a bit later when she decided to track down Charles again. Wandering around his mansion was good for stretching her stomach without danger, but with nobody else in the building, it quickly became boring. She'd practiced for a while in a room full of weight machines, annoyed that the weights wouldn't go high enough to make her break a sweat. There didn't seem to be anywhere inside to practice fighting, or any weapons to practice using. Why not talk to Charles?

Eventually, she found him in the library. What she hadn't expected was that he already had company. A man with white-blond hair that reached his shoulders was next to Charles, the pair of them intently focused on a scattering of papers and animatedly gesturing at points. As she entered the room, the stranger looked up, frowning at her with his pale eyes narrowed.

"I did not know that you were expecting anybody," Kendra murmured, wondering if she should just go back outside and go jogging again.

"This is my friend Erik Lehnscherr. Erik, this is Kendra, she'll be staying here for a while," Charles gestured at each of them when he introduced, smiling cheerfully.

"Pleased to meet you," Kendra murmured, not certain that it was anywhere near the truth. Something about the way he was looking at her, as if he was measuring her and finding her somehow lacking…

"Charles, if we shift this here, it will amplify an existing ability, and the energy requirements will be reduced significantly," Erik taped the pages on the table.

"Yes, but what we need is… well, some way to copy the results," Charles mused, frowning at the pages. He looked up, giving Kendra a small smile, and then returned his gaze to Erik's finger.

"What is it supposed to do?" Kendra moved closer, looking at the papers. Some sort of strange helmet with wires, and a large ball-observatory thing, if she was reading them correctly.

Erik gave her another one of those glances, and looked back at the table, as if deciding that she wasn't worth answering.

Kendra abruptly remembered why this period in time had been unfortunate for America. Segregation hadn't been a minor matter of where children went to school; it had been a greater issue of individual worth. Anger burned in her, sharper than the sword that Angelus had stabbed her with. "If this has to do with your concern for mutants, I think you're already doomed to fail, Mister Lehnsherr."

Charles sat up, blinking in confusion. He looked at her, clearly trying to figure out how to say… something and failing.

Not so with Erik Lehnscherr. His disapproving frown had changed to a full-fledged scowl, and he demanded, "What on earth do you mean by that?"

"You know nothing about me, and you are dismissing me as if I can not follow what you are doing. As if I am a person of lesser understanding and worth because I am not the same as you. You only know that I am a woman, and my skin is darker than yours, and you judge me. If you can not move past something as simple as the color of my skin, how can you ever expect people to move past abilities that not everyone has?" Kendra glared right back.

His glare intensified, and a bit of metal floated up, darting towards her like an angry bumblebee.

Kendra grabbed the object and slammed it into the table, glaring back. She had fought demons and slain vampires, she was not afraid of some arrogant tinkerer in a library. "Do not attack me for pointing out your actions."

Both of them stared, and Charles stammered, "How... at that speed…?"

"I offer my apologies, Miss Kendra," Erik was looking particularly pale, and he slowly sat down. "To think that after suffering so much because of others judging based on appearance or heritage that I would make the same mistake…"

Charles looked at her hand. "What did… is your hand all right?"

Kendra lifted her hand, looking at it carefully. Her fingers tingled a bit from slapping into the table, but she was fine. Where her hand had been, a small lump of metal had been embedded in the wood of the table, a few small cracks radiating from it along the wood grain. "I apologize for your table, Charles."

His gaze dropped to the table, and Charles blinked. "Oh. The table isn't a problem… I see what you meant by being stronger than you look."

Erik made a noise remarkably like a muffled snort as he stared at the piece of metal. "Perhaps I should apologize for underestimating you?"

"You are forgiven," Kendra replied, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Settling herself in one of the chairs, she pointed at the pages, "Now, what is that supposed to do?"

"One of the things that I can do is… search? Sense?" Charles paused, struggling for the right word. "I can detect a mutant within a certain distance around me. We're hoping that we can build something to extend that range."

"And then we can find them, and help them learn to use their abilities," Erik finished.

Kendra nodded, understanding why they might want to do something like that. "But how does it work? Does it simply amplify that ability? Could someone else use it to do the same, or to sense for something other than mutants?"

"That's the idea," Charles agreed. "That it will simply magnify the existing ability, and hopefully enable a display of some sort to help figure out where. To let someone else figure out where, that is."

Kendra nodded, understanding what he meant. Then, her mind jumped to the idea of using something like that to search out nests of vampires and demons before a night of hunting… If the different sorts could be made to show up differently, then a Watcher could even identify them ahead of time. Her mind came to an abrupt halt at the realization that this world might not have Watchers, and might not even have demons and vampires. "When you have a working version, I'd like to try it."

Charles winced, "Should I hope that it doesn't work for you?"

Erik blinked, looking at the two of them. "Why would you hope that it doesn't work for her?"

"I do not detect mutants," Kendra offered. "What I detect… is dangerous. He is not hoping the machine fails, he is hoping that there is nothing for it to find."

"Exactly," Charles agreed.

"I am not so optimistic as to not want to make certain." Kendra's voice allowed no argument.

"Then perhaps we'd best keep working on this," Erik replied. "The sooner we sort out where the wires and cords should go, the sooner we can try again to build one."

End part 6.


	4. parts 7 and 8

Kendra tried to learn more about the world and time of this place as she healed. Things would be different, and it could be very important for her to understand how different things were from what she was used to. Not only a different time but a different country than her home, not that she'd had a normal childhood. But the more she read about the things going on, the more confused she felt. Such blind, unreasoning fear and prejudice…

She was also spending a good amount of time looking at the obituary listings and the bits of information in the hospital admissions. She hoped that she wouldn't see the things that she found, but they were there. Exsanguinated bodies, though not as many as she was used to. Bodies that had been mauled and mutilated – were they human homicides, feral dogs, or demonic activity? There were very few listings of disappearances, but perhaps that was caused by a lack of reporting.

"Pleasant readings, Kendra?" Erik's voice came from the doorway.

"No. Too many people hating for things they should not hate about, and too many people dead from what could be what I need to find. The papers hold very little that is pleasant to read about," Kendra shook her head.

"I've shared that thought about the news being unpleasant," Erik admitted. "What do you need to find? You mentioned that it was dangerous…"

"I see that Charles told you little, or perhaps he does not want to believe," Kendra paused, trying to organize her thoughts. "I am Kendra, the Vampire Slayer. In my own world, the beginning was a dark and dangerous time, with the world filled with demons. When the most powerful demons left, this allowed other things to spread, humans and many types of lesser demons. One of those lesser demons is the vampire. In all the world, there is one girl Chosen to fight, empowered to have strength equal to the demons and vampires. I am that girl. If there are demons and vampires endangering the people of this world, I must hunt them and kill them."

"That sounds…" Erik faltered, searching for the right word. "Dangerous. What happens if you run into more than you can handle?"

"When one Slayer dies, another is Chosen. That is how it works, how it's always worked," Kendra looked at him, and tried to smile. "It is my destiny. One night, I will enter battle with them, and I will not win. Until then, I will do what I can to make the world… this world safer."

"Your destiny is to fight monsters? Not to get married and raise a family?" Erik arched one eyebrow.

"No. I have been raised knowing that this would be my destiny," Kendra found it odd how much he reminded her of Buffy in that moment, asking if a Slayer could have a 'normal' life. Erik really had very little in common with Buffy at all. "This is my life."

"Because you've been raised believing this, you want to go out looking for vampires in New York?" Erik shook his head, and sighed.

Erik spoke again, the words phrased as an offer, though the tone said otherwise. "We could go with you, Charles and I need a break from working on our cerebral scanner, and you wouldn't be familiar with the area."

"That would be excellent," Kendra nodded, already trying to determine what weapons would be the best to take with her. Several stakes, of course, and at least one knife. It was such a pity that Charles had no practical spears, and only the target bolts for a crossbow. She could work on that later, she was certain. "It would be good to have a guide to the area."

"What happens if you don't find any vampires?" Erik asked.

"There will be vampires," Kendra had no doubts. "I may not recognize the demons, but there will be things for me to fight. I can feel… there is something in that direction that I should slay. I do not know what it is, but I can feel it. Slayers are given the ability to sense our prey, to feel the darkness and evil that fills the vampires and demons. It is that sense that I hope your device will enhance. At home, my Watcher had many books about the different demons and how to kill them. What will kill one demon may not kill another, so we could prepare for what I would face. If I can prepare in advance here…"

Erik nodded, "I understand how that would be an advantage."

Kendra wondered what strange and unwelcome thoughts were going through Erik's mind as he left the room, murmuring something about finding Charles.

It felt like the two men took hours to be ready for the trip to the city, but Kendra knew that was her own impatience. She had three stakes and a pair of knives, all hidden from casual view. She'd felt a moment of dismay at the realization that somehow Mr. Pointy had remained in Sunnydale. "A stake is a weapon. I have other stakes, and they will serve just as well."

"Kendra, are you certain that you're healed enough to do this? You had a hole that went through your entire body," Charles protested. "Even healing faster than I do, that's… An ordinary woman would barely be out of the hospital."

"But I am not an ordinary woman. I am the Slayer," Kendra smiled. "This should only be a quick, small patrol, to see what is out there."

She watched out the window of the car as Charles drove them into the city. He was talking with Erik about their device, and the discussion quickly went into far more engineering detail than Kendra could follow. They could both use a break from their project. The world was full of people, and deserved someone to stand against the vampires, against the darkness. Life would be better once she was Slaying again.

End part 7

People were giving them strange looks as they walked down the sidewalk. Kendra paid them little attention, trying to get a sense of direction for the chill of danger that she felt. Somewhere, there was something that needed slain, and if she could follow the feeling… There would be time later to think about the way people were pointedly not looking at her or the whispers about 'why would two gentlemen like that be walking with someone like her?' or the harsh comments about her clothing. She certainly didn't want to consider the number of men who seemed to be thinking about parts of her body.

"Kendra, is there something that you're looking for? Some kind of store, or a landmark? The Empire State building is that way," Charles murmured, his voice behind her ears as well as reaching them. "I don't know what you're looking for."

"There is something this way, something that I need to attend to. Something dark," Kendra shook her head. "It feels much like a vampire, but different than I am used to."

Charles stumbled, his mouth opening as if to say something. Instead of whatever he'd clearly wanted to say, he just shook his head, "It seems I need to get out more before I forget how to walk."

Erik was trying not to laugh at his friend. "You're a professor of medicine and biology, educated in physics and engineering, and now you can't walk down the sidewalk without stumbling? Really, Charles, you need to spend less time in the study and more exercising."

"Glad that I could amuse you," Charles retorted, looking more amused than insulted.

Kendra followed the feeling of the vampire, trying to sort out if it was one vampire or several, how old and how hungry. If she could have an idea how dangerous her opponent was before the fight, she could plan better. But the feeling was different than before. She thought there was only one, turned no more than twenty years ago, but there were oddities to the feeling of power. Like a familiar word twisted by an accent.

A smile formed as she realized that she had ended up a few feet ahead of Charles and Erik. They were still following her, perhaps out of confused curiosity, but she would have space to fight with. She turned into the alley, unsurprised to see what looked like a couple seizing a romantic moment.

"I know you are there, vampire," her words were a challenge.

"Why can't feel… what's wrong with his mind?" Charles stumbled again, "She's so afraid."

Dropping the woman to the ground, the vampire spun and threw a punch and Kendra, eyes glowing red and fangs bared.

A small part of Kendra's mind wanted to know why his eyes were glowing red instead of the normal yellow, why his fangs were different, and why he had none of the ugly ridges on his forehead. She would think of that later, after the fight. She dodged the punch, landing her own beneath his ribs, sending him crashing into the wall. While a vampire truly didn't need the breath in their lungs, driving it out would give her a chance to see how well he took the hit, and how quickly he could recover.

It was a short, uneven fight. The vampire depended entirely on his speed and strength, which were less than what she had expected. He did seem to be recovering faster, but that would do him little good. He didn't even see the stake until it slid between his ribs.

The vampire burst into flames, the flesh rapidly crumbling while the bones took a few seconds longer. In moments, there was only a small pile of ashes and a few metal rivets and what looked like a metal tooth to mark where the vampire had stood. Behind her, Charles was helping the frightened victim to her feet.

"That man, he was… he… his teeth," the woman was sobbing now, clinging to Charles.

"He will not be a danger to you any longer," Kendra offered. Moving closer, she tried to figure out if the woman was clinging to Charles from blood-loss, or from her emotions running rampant. The only thing she was sure of was that she didn't like it. "Perhaps Charles can take you to the hospital?"

Stepping towards Kendra, Erik looked at the ashes. "Is that normal?"

"A bit different than what I am used to," Kendra admitted. "He was not the same as the ones at home. His eyes were red, not yellow, and the teeth were different. The vampires here should not be a problem if they are all like him."

"After seeing that, Charles should believe you. Though I hope you won't be fighting any demons," Erik offered. "I suppose Charles will be taking her to the hospital. Did you want to patrol any further, or can we go now?"

Kendra considered Erik, who looked shaken by the fight, even if he hadn't been involved. Charles looked dismayed by the woman clinging to him, something that oddly made Kendra feel better. She didn't know the city, and her two guides looked rather less than guiding at the moment. "I suppose that we could go home as soon as we finish dealing with her," Kendra offered.

It took more time than Kendra had expected before the woman, Victoria Grey, was admitted to the hospital emergency room. There had been so many forms to try to fill out that it had just left her shaking her head. Someone had told Charles that a police officer would be over to talk to Ms Grey in the morning, and that he might be contacted as well, 'just for an official statement'.

By the time they pulled into the driveway of the mansion, Kendra was more than ready to call it a night. "I think the hospital was more tiring than the fight."

"I couldn't hear him. Normally I hear something of everyone's thoughts, even if they are indistinct, but," Charles shook his head. "I couldn't sense that man. The vampire. He was… he was trying to kill Ms Grey, and I couldn't…. I couldn't hear anything."

"I will tell you what my first watcher once told me. Never depend on only one sense when things involve vampires. If you only watch the one in front of you, a second can sneak up behind. If you only listen, you may miss the scent of their weapons, the earth of their graves. For you, do not depend entirely on hearing a person's thoughts. It will make you careless," Kendra looked at Charles, hoping that he would understand how serious the situation could be. The vampire you don't see or underestimated could be the one that left you dead or turned.

"I'll have to remember that," Charles sighed. "I think… Good night. I hope your dreams are more enjoyable than the walk tonight."

Kendra walked towards her room, wondering when this had started to feel like home, instead of just feeling like the place that Charles was allowing her to stay. And why had it bothered her to see Ms Grey clinging to him like that?

End part 8.


	5. parts 9 and 10

Morning didn't feel much better for Kendra. Oh, she wasn't tired anymore, but she still felt out of sorts from the long ordeal at the hospital, still confused over the differences between the vampire last night and the ones from home, and still annoyed by that ridiculous woman, Victoria Grey. Pulling on some of the clothing that Charles had found for her, Kendra slipped out the door.

Twisting, unhappy thoughts were no reason to let her conditioning slip. There was a thin path that led to the lake, and se set out jogging along it, savoring the crisp air and the many scents of the outdoors. The air was cooler than Jamaica, and held far fewer flowers. It was also much cleaner than the air in Sunnydale.

As she ran along the path, Kendra let her thoughts settle, and some of them made more sense. The hospital had been annoying, greatly because Mr. Zabuto had always been there to shield her from other administrators, as was part of his duty as a Watcher. A Watcher stood between their Slayer and any problem that kept them from performing their duty – family obligations, social services that knew nothing of demons and vampires, paperwork from medical personnel when a victim was saved or a Slayer injured… She'd never been forced to deal with annoying and tedious forms like that before. Of course the experience had been frustrating.

As for the vampire, one really wasn't enough to get a good idea. She'd need to see more of the vampires in this new world to get a better idea what was normal. It could always be that the one she'd fought was an anomaly, and that most of the vampires here had the traditional yellow eyes, jagged teeth, and wrinkled brows. It could be that his particular bloodline carried a few differences, like that one Greek like that tended to get hooves. Once she killed more of the local vampires, she'd have a much better idea of the local 'normal'. It would be nice if he had been normal, he had been weaker and slower than the ones that she was used to fighting.

As for Victoria Grey… The woman seemed to be from a prosperous family, and a good section of town. Why had she fallen apart like that? Sobbing hysterics and draping herself all over Charles like that, it was positively shameful. Even if the woman wasn't a Slayer, or raised with the knowledge of what dangers lurked in the darkness, did she have to act like such a helpless twit? Did the woman have no sense of dignity, of self-respect?

Charles hadn't even been the one to save her anyhow.

Kendra returned to the mansion, feeling a little better than she had before, even if she was still irritated by that woman. Shaking her head, she tried to push thoughts of the woman away, knowing that she had other things to worry about. Better things to focus her thoughts on.

Opening the door, she caught sight of Charles' friend, still looking sleepy. He had bare toes peeking out under the hems of his trousers, his shirt was untucked, and he was moving with the sort of slowness of someone who is either very tired or not yet fully certain of what they're doing.

"Good morning, Erik. Has Charles stopped muttering about not hearing the vampire's thoughts yet?" Kendra asked with a smile.

"I think he took a break while he slept," Erik snickered. "He seemed more shaken by that than the fact that he was really a vampire, with fangs and trying to drink that woman's blood."

"I suppose it would be very unsettling for him, if he always hears something from everyone. Though I must wonder how much he hears, and how he manages to think so well of people if he can always hear what goes through their minds," Kendra offered. She wondered just how it would be to hear thoughts, and if it would be difficult to adjust to such an ability.

"So he's mentioned. The comparison that he made is that it's like hearing someone just a bit too far away, you can tell that they're talking, but you can't make out the words," Erik said.

Gesturing towards the door, Erik asked, "Is the paper here yet?"

"I did not look," Kendra admitted. "Instead of jogging along the driveway to the gate and back, I took the path to the lake."

"How far did you go? Considering that fight last night," Erik paused, his brows lowered. "I know that you're stronger than an ordinary woman. Are you also more resistant to injury?"

"I went all the way to the lake," Kendra laughed. "Last night was a very light patrol, with only the one vampire. I am a bit harder to injure than a human, and I heal much better. I think the water might be nice to swim in, but I do not think I would feel safe entering the water without a weapon."

Erik's eyes widened, and for several moments he couldn't manage words. After a pause, he managed, "That's impressive."

"Thank you," Kendra said. "As a Slayer, I can sense the vampires and demons. If you and Charles manage to get that device working properly, I wish to try it, to see if I can sense them from farther away. To see if it will let me know what sort of demons are out there."

"Does it make a difference what type of demon is there?" Erik's words were soft.

"Some can only be killed with certain weapons. With wood, or with iron. By fire or being cut into many pieces. If you need iron against a demon, it is better to know and have such a weapon with you rather than only a few wooden stakes," Kendra explained.

"You mentioned iron, does it have to be pure iron, or would steel work?" Erik was looking at her foot now, shifting his weight from side to side slightly.

Kendra felt a little amused by his unease, and took a moment's pity on him. "That depends on the demon. Some are as vulnerable to steel as to iron, others are not. And there are some that it does not matter what you use as long as you separate them into the correct number of pieces in the correct places."

"How do you keep all of that sorted in your head?" Erik asked.

"Instead of learning electrical engineering, I learned about different types of demons and how to kill them. Instead of learning how to dance and smile at boys, I learned to use a sword, to shoot with a bow or crossbow. When you know that forgetting something can lead to a very painful death, you remember," Kendra explained.

"Yes, that does help you remember the most horrible things," Erik whispered, his eyes suddenly going flat in a way that hinted at ugly memories.

"You have your own horrible things you remember, don't you? Things that burned themselves into your mind in a time and place that you would rather forget," Kendra touched the back of his hand. "I do not know what ugliness you have seen, but you have survived it. Do not let the pain of the past destroy you now when it did not destroy you then."

He looked at her, and for a moment, Kendra thought that Erik would yell, would have angry words about her daring to speak of what his past must hold. As he glared, the layer of pain ebbed from his eyes, and he shuddered. "You are right, there was ugliness. And I refuse to let them destroy me, or anyone else again."

"There is more than one way to be destroyed, Erik," Kendra warned. "There is the death of the body, and there is the slow death of the soul. The second can be much worse."

"Now you sound like Charles," Erik muttered.

Laughing, Kendra changed the subject. "Can you help me find the kitchen? After a nice morning run, I find that I am hungry."

"Of course. Breakfast sounds like a wonderful idea," Erik agreed. "This way."

End part 9.

Charles was already in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in front of him as he rubbed his temples. He didn't turn away from his coffee as he mumbled, "Morning."

"Yes, and I think only one of us is really awake," Erik replied, pouring his own mug of coffee. "Unfortunately, it isn't me."

"I do hope that you believe me about the vampires now, Charles," Kendra added, pouring her own coffee before starting some toast.

"I can't doubt you anymore, Kendra. You mentioned patrolling, and that you fought vampires and demons. Are things always so dangerous for you?" Charles looked at her.

"Last night was not that dangerous. There was only one vampire, and he was weak. I will need to determine if he was typical of the vampires of this world, or if there is a variety among the vampires," Kendra caught the toast, and moved to pour honey over it. "I still do not know what sort of demonic threats there may be."

"How will you know if a threat is truly demonic, rather than a strange looking mutant?" Charles was frowning now, and his finger was trailing over the rim of his coffee mug.

"Or purely human evil," Erik added.

"I am the Slayer," Kendra repeated. "I will know if something is demonic, or a vampire. I will know if something is a danger. There have been stories of longer lived Slayers that could learn to sense danger from humans."

Charles made a noise, something that wanted to be a protest.

Kendra looked at him, shaking her head. She could see Erik glaring at him, and the silverware rattled in the drawer. "While the evils and dangers of demons and vampires are often more obvious than those of humans, humans have done more harm to humans than all the different demons combined. Demons kill because it is in their nature to do evil. Humans do evil for a hundred petty reasons. Because they are bored. Because they do not like something about you. Because you have something they want. Because it makes them feel strong. Because someone offered them money."

"But…" Charles tried to protest again.

"Demons are more predictable," Kendra said, her head tilting down to stare at her toast. "With them, you can say that it is normal for a Wukuirie to cause the deaths of humans, that it is normal for a Fyarl to beat others to death. You can not so easily say what is normal for a human to do. Some will help others, while there are those who would beat a person down to take their wallet and money."

"What about a person's better nature?" Charles' voice held a bit of a quaver as he asked.

"It is a wonderful thing in those who have it, but not all people have a better nature. Some have only an indifferent and a worse nature," Kendra spoke softly, knowing that her words would hurt Charles and his optimistic view of people.

Charles sighed, and took a sip of his coffee. "I want tomorrow to be better than today. I want the world that our children live in to be better than what we have."

"Such a goal takes more than dreaming, Charles. It will take a great deal of work, and more people who share such a dream," Erik paused before continuing in a whisper. "A world where a person's faith, or what country they were born in do not matter. That would be a tomorrow worth fighting for"

"You want to build that device to find more mutants," Kendra began. "Find them. Not just the ones who would be good at fighting for your better tomorrow against those who fear and hate, but as many as you can find. Those who can do great things and those who can do little things. Find them, bring them to a place where they will be safe, and teach them. Teach them that tomorrow can be better, teach them that they do not need to be afraid of themselves. Find and teach as many as you can, of all shapes and faces and hues, and then let them go out into the world to teach others."

"That sounds like a school," Charles smiled. "What would I call it? How would I explain it?"

"You told me that your power is a gift. This is your dream, your vision. It will be your school. Charles Xavier's school for the gifted," Kendra said.

"I like that," Erik mused. "Of course, he'll need to find a good many more people if he's going to have a school. Teachers, cleaning staff, cooks, nurses for when the students get sick or injured… A doctor if there are some who fear the public hospitals."

"Such a thing will start smaller, with a few that you find. Perhaps some will be people who have such skills, mathematicians, nurses, cooks. If this gift is given without a pattern, why not to those who have such skills? Or why not bring in concerned friends and families of the ones who do have such a gift?" Kendra suggested.

"A very good idea," Charles was smiling now, and took a swallow of his coffee. "But is it a good idea to bring ordinary humans in as well?"

"How else will those you wish to teach learn to live with those who are ordinary humans unless they have practice?" Kendra countered. Remembering Sunnydale, she added, "Being without a special power does not make one ordinary. Me Watcher had no special powers, but he was not 'ordinary'. Xander fought at the side of another Slayer, with no powers and no training, because he could not stand aside and let people die as he did nothing. It is not having power that makes someone brave, or great."

"Then we must also teach responsibility," Erik declared.

End part 10.


	6. parts 11 and 12

Kendra balanced on the bar, her weight supported by one hand as the other stretched out to the side. She did smile as she remembered a very similar scene in a movie, with a young man taking lessons from a very wise and small old teacher on how to become a Jedi. While she did not have the Force or the same range of abilities that the characters in the movies had been able to make use of, the balance was equally important. As was maintaining an awareness of her surroundings. And it wasn't as if the movie had even been made yet, if it ever would be in this world.

Deciding that she'd held the position long enough, she let herself swing around the bar, twisting at the top before swinging again. It was wonderful to have such equipment to practice with, though she wouldn't have minded if the weights could go a bit higher. Charles and Erik had talked for hours about what would be needed for the school. Instructors for the various academic subjects, one or two nurses and perhaps a doctor. Cleaning and cooking staff. Someone who could alter clothing if they found a mutant who didn't fit normal things, someone of unusual size, or perhaps with a tail. Legal permits and codes to follow for housing and education. It had been quite enough to make her head spin.

She had focused more on the physical educational needs of the still hypothetical students. Unless they had some very convincing physical reason not to, Kendra wanted everybody to be taught a certain level of self defense, of running and falling safely, of how to climb and swim. Naturally, some students would be more interested in sports or track events than others, and she intended to encourage that, especially for the girls. The possibility also needed to be considered of how to teach some of the abilities these students would have. Charles could teach any telepaths, or people with similar gifts. But what if they had other abilities, nothing like what Charles or Erik could do? Something like, oh, throwing fireballs or sending themself from one place to another in the blink of an eye? Or changing from a human to a bird?

"Kendra?" Charles spoke from the doorway.

"Yes, Charles?" Kendra let go of the bar, flipping twice in the air before she landed on her feet. "I was thinking about the physical lessons you will need to give the students of your school. They will need to learn some about defense as well as just keeping active. And it might be very good to have a target range, perhaps outside."

"You made that look so easy…" Charles shook his head.

Shrugging, Kendra walked towards him. "Have you and Erik made much progress with your plans?"

"A good amount," Charles smiled. "But we still need the various permits, and of course, we need students."

"Have you looked for some in the area? You mentioned that the device you were working on would amplify your ability to locate mutants. That must mean you have the ability on your own. Perhaps there are some in the area that you could contact, or even some who could help you," Kendra shook her head, feeling her braids slide over her shoulders. "You might also wish to start looking for open minded teachers. If you are planning to change the world, you may not have time to teach mathematics, history, and literature."

"A good point," Charles admitted, his cheeks turning pink. "I thought I might start looking after lunch."

"Is it time for lunch already?" Kendra blinked, glancing over at Charles, who seemed unwilling to look directly at her. "Is something wrong?"

"You… ah… you might want to put on a bit more clothing before lunch," he went from pink to a definite red.

Kendra blinked, and then smirked as she realized what was wrong. Charles liked what he saw. He liked a good deal more than he felt appropriate. "You go on to the kitchen, and I will be there shortly. We can talk about your school plans then."

Charles stammered and retreated.

Kendra couldn't stop smiling as she changed into something looser. The way he'd reacted left her feeling oddly powerful, in a way completely different than a good fight or lifting heavy weights. She felt powerful, and desirable. Not that she had much of an idea what to do about that feeling, but she rather enjoyed feeling attractive.

"It seems that Charles is not so confident about everything," Kendra smiled at the world. She could live with that. And it might be interesting to see what happened next.

End part 11.

Lunch was amusing, if only because Charles kept blushing when he looked at her. Erik joined them, and they discussed the plans for the school. Charles intended to start with converting part of the mansion, until he had enough students to justify a new building. The assorted paperwork for permits was in motion, and he mentioned trying to plan a curriculum.

"Have you started looking for more mutants?" Kendra asked, sipping at her lemonaide.

"Yes, and I've found a few. One is a nurse, though I'm not sure what sort of abilities she has, and I think it might help if I offer to provide an education for her children. They're too young to know if they'll be mutants, but…" Charles shrugged, and sighed.

"Your theory was that mutants are born different," Kendra began, thinking of the biology lessons and the discussion of genetics from her own schooling. Had genes been discovered yet? She couldn't quite remember. "If it is a difference, then shouldn't it be something that could be passes to a mutant's children? At least as much as the chance of someone having their mother's eyes or their father's nose."

"A good point," Erik commented. "I think we need to do a bit more research into what gives a mutant their abilities, but that is a separate matter from founding a school."

"I've found a few young people with differences. There's a boy who seems to have some sort of ability with fire. There was a woman, I think some sort of shape changer, but she vanished. A man, I would guess some sort of feral mutation to explain the claws. A boy who seems to be able to talk to dogs. A child who can read other people's dreams. A teacher who appears to be able to watch the students behind her as easily as the ones in front of her. A girl who seems to be able to breathe underwater…" Charles shook his head. "Some of them seem to have abilities of little use, but you are right, if humans and mutants should live together in peace, we need to talk to those with impressive abilities and those whose gifts are smaller."

"It might also give you a chance to practice your explanations," Kendra observed. "Will you go with me for a patrol again tonight?"

"Again? You don't… injuries? Shock? Differences between this world and the one you're used to?" Charles had paled.

"I was not injured, and you seemed to have a greater shock than I did," Kendra smiled at him. "As for the differences between that vampire and the ones I am used to, I must learn more about them. I can not do that without further contact with the vampires. You don't have vampires here at the mansion, so I must go looking for them. I should be safe enough, though company would be welcome."

"Well, you are still learning about the differences between your own world and this one," Charles began, his words slipping out. "It would be terribly rude of me to let you wander about New York without someone who at least knows the streets. Not to slight your abilities to defend yourself, but there is a large difference between fending off a mugger and locating a particular building."

"Just skip to the part where you say 'yes Kendra, I will go with your hunting vampires' and be done with it, Charles," Erik smirked. "I'll continue going over the academic arrangements."

"I did intend to go, as Kendra does need someone to help her find her way around," Charles was turning pink, and he looked away from Kendra as he spoke. "And I need to give myself a bit of time away from the plans before I start thinking in blueprints and lists."

"And that's it?" Erik leaned back in his chair, glancing at Kendra and then staring at Charles.

"Should there be anything else?" Charles was staring fixedly at the doorway.

Kendra sighed, certain that Erik was teasing Charles. She also had the frustrating idea that Buffy would have followed the entire thing and understood the teasing. "Perhaps we can leave earlier and I can get an idea what sections of town may be used as lairs for vampires or demons?"

"I suppose that makes sense," Charles shivered, adding, "Demons and vampires… your life sounds like it should be a horror movie."

Kendra arched her eyebrow, commenting "People rarely die when they make movies. My life is far more dangerous."

Both of them nodded, the teasing mood banished by her solemn words. Despite knowing that she had missed part of the joke, Kendra regretted spoiling the mood.

End part 12.


	7. parts 13 and 14

Kendra paid more attention to their route into town this time. There could come a time when she would need to travel alone, and it would be better to know the way instead of depending on her ability to sense the demons and vampires to guide her. She was also well aware that demons and vampires weren't the only danger in this world. There were the acts of nature; earthquakes, storms, venomous creatures of all sorts. Slayers could get sick. Listening to Charles and Erik discussing the school, she reminded herself that humans could be every bit as dangerous as demons, and she needed to be wary of them as well. Human didn't mean good, after all, just less likely to eat you.

With a sigh, she tried to focus on tonight, on hunting the vampires of this world. Distraction, even if only on the differences, could be fatal. She needed to learn the area, to learn the way people spoke and dressed, so that she could see the differences between mortals and vampires who had not kept up with the changes in society. She had to keep aware of her surroundings so that she couldn't be attacked by someone in a door where she thought there was only a wall.

"Are you sure that you have to do this, Kendra?" Charles asked, looking at the dark walls around them. "This area seems…"

"The word you're looking for is dangerous," Erik offered.

"Yes, dangerous is the right word," Charles agreed, his eye flickering from side to side.

"You might want to see if any of your gifted individuals are in the area," Kendra suggested. "If their gifts are as random as you say, why not find them here? And perhaps they would be more willing to leave this place for a dream that is not yet fully detailed."

Charles nodded, and his eyelids lowered, leaving him the appearance of being half asleep, or perhaps having used certain drugs that weren't available in stores.

"We'll need to keep an eye on him and make sure nobody just walks off with his wallet," Erik snickered. "Some day he has to figure out a way to do this without being oblivious to the rest of the world."

"If he can't hear the thoughts of vampires, that might be another thing to worry about while he's oblivious," Kendra fretted. "They are seldom picky about who they eat."

"That's very disturbing," Erik shuddered.

"I've found someone," Charles whispered. "Maybe several, I'm not sure. "An image, but I'm not sure if it's the mother or her children, or one of the children."

"There are vampires nearby," Kendra listened, though not with her ears, trying to get a sense of what direction. "Two, perhaps three. They are hunting."

"What?" Erik looked over, his eyes widening. "How can you tell what they're doing?"

Kendra opened the car door, her other hand touching a stake. "They are not far away. If I hurry, I may be able to kill them before they can feed tonight."

"Kendra..?" Charles couldn't quite finish his question.

"Very few vampires feed without killing," Kendra's words were harsh, and she fought not to loose herself in the memories of the times when the vampires hadn't killed immediately. "Usually only when they wish to keep their prey and torment them longer. I do not wish to permit such things if I can prevent them."

Charles made a noise, his face paling. "Dear god, how can they… how could they? What you've seen…"

"They are not human. They are bodies possessed by demons," Kendra headed towards the feeling of the vampires, forcing down the tiny thought that perhaps the vampires here weren't like that, that perhaps the ones here wouldn't be so bad. "Vampires kill, they torment, and they are a danger to humans. That is why I will slay them. To protect the ones that they would rape, torture, and kill."

"And if the ones here are different?" Charles whispered, one hand rubbing at his temple. "What if there are those who don't?"

"If it will make you feel better, should I ever find a harmless vampire, one who does not prey on de innocent, one who does not take pleasure in fear, pain and death, I will not kill that vampire." Kendra hurried, the sense of vampire getting closer. "I do not t'ink that night will be soon."

"Just how different are vampires from humans?" Erik asked, one hand clenching into a fist as small bits of metal rose into the air to follow in their wake. "A strong magnetic field can disorient humans, will it do the same to vampires?"

Kendra felt the back of her neck itch as he did that, unsure if the feeling was a direct result of however he was doing what eh was doing or if she could sense his ability in a way similar to sensing demons and magic. It didn't feel evil, but the power and potential of it were staggering. "De increases in strength and stamina are from the demonic energies, not physical changes. A magnetic field should affect them the same way as a human. If the results are only temporary, then it will have the added benefit of not harming or killing any humans they may be attacking or attempting to use as hostages."

"A good plan," Charles muttered. "I can feel fear just around the corner."

"I am ready," Kendra lifted the stake.

End part 13.

Kendra took in the scene at a quick glance. A young couple, no older than Charles, walking down the alley with a child of perhaps seven. Her guess would be that the couple had found the child, and were trying to help the little one home. Despite the tiny hand holding the woman's hand, Kendra could see no traces of familial resemblance. A pair of vampires lurked on the fire escape, currently dropping towards the alley.

The woman screamed, pulling the child closer to her body. The vampires growled, fangs bared and red eyes gleaming in the darkness as they approached. "I love it when dinner delivers."

Kendra didn't bother trying to make witty quips, or to throw them off their game by insulting them. She went for a snap kick to the closer one's head and grabbed at the other, hurling him into the wall to stun him for a few moments. As the one she had kicked staggered, she raised her stake, preparing to impale the vampire's useless heart.

A pulse of something passed through the air, and her head spun, leaving her feeling dizzy. Kendra stabbed the vampire, and turned, her eyes passing over the now cowering couple and the small child, and then turning to the remaining vampire. Her hand felt sweaty, and she didn't trust her balance as she moved towards him.

"You miserable cow! We were going to eat them," the vampire snarled, one hand shaking at his temple. "How… how dare you."

Kendra pressed her teeth together, fighting nausea. The effect had to be from Erik's power, and it seemed very effective. She didn't trust herself to speak, and glared back at the vampire, refusing to show fear.

He swung at her, red eyes glaring and one tooth crooked, "I'll kill you, string your guts for… for garters…"

Kendra stabbed with her stake, feeling the wood splinter. He didn't crumble, and she yanked it out, stabbing again an inch to the right. This time he burned away to ash.

"Enough of that, Erik. You're making them quite uncomfortable," Charles insisted, his own face looking a bit green.

Kendra wasn't the only one to sigh with relief as the odd feeling that wasn't quite pressure stopped. Her head cleared up, and the strange sensation that she could only describe as a vibration in her bones eased. Kendra turned towards the frightened trio, asking "Are you hurt?"

"What… what were those men?" the man asked, pointing at the two ash heaps that had been vampires moments before. "They had red eyes, fangs… and they just crumbled."

"Those were vampires," Kendra replied, frowning as she scanned the alley. There was another vampire nearby, though this one was either much weaker than the two she had slain or much better at concealing itself. "Decapitation, a stake through de heart, fire and sunlight will slay them."

"But they couldn't… vampires can't…" the man protested, his eyes still on the ashes. "This can't be happening."

"Saying that something can't happen has never stopped the unpleasantries of life," Erik's voice was harsh.

Kendra frowned, still absolutely certain there was another vampire close tot hem, an unable to find it. Perhaps that shape with flapping fabric, above them? Or in the shadows behind the dumpster? Maybe the vampire was below, moving amidst the sewer system?

"You will be safe enough, Mr. Taylor. Yourself, your fiancé, and…" Charles stopped his eyes going wide with horror. "Why can't I hear anything from the child?"

Kendra turned towards the couple and the child, the stake in her hand. Her eyes narrowed and she focused her attention on the small figure, still held close to the frightened woman. The wide eyes glimmered and flickered between red and brown, and the small hands held tight against the woman's hand and arm. The signs were unmistakable, the child was a vampire. Kendra couldn't tell if she was more angry or horrified, but this was a definite outrage. "Who would do such a t'ing… The child is a vampire."

"I don't want to be staked," the child shrieked, cringing against the woman. "Please don't kill me."

"He's just a child," the man whispered, one hand resting on the child vampire's shoulder. "Surely it can't be his fault."

"No, it would not have been his fault," Kendra agreed, not lowering the stake. She had the sinking feeling that none of them would permit her to stake the child, even if he was a vampire. "Very few people would ask for such a t'ing."

"You can't, Kendra. He's just a child," Charles insisted.

"Will the two of you be alright?" Erik asked the couple, his eyes not focused on the child.

"We should be fine," the woman whispered, half curled around the fanged child. "The poor dear's petrified."

Kendra didn't have much sympathy for the vampire child and his fear, though she admitted that he probably was afraid of being staked. He certainly wouldn't want to die. After a few moments, she lowered the stake, hoping that she would be wrong. Hoping that the vampires of this world were not as completely evil as the ones from home. "For their sake, I hope you are right, Charles."

She watched the trio scurry away, and tried to banish the dread in her stomach. "If you are wrong, they will pay for it. If the child is as vicious and evil as the vampires back home, they will die."

"The others were attacking, Kendra. Of course you didn't have a choice but to slay them. But the child seemed so afraid. Maybe he's different, maybe he isn't the same ruthless killer," Charles stared after them, his words soft.

"You are thinking of your dream again," Kendra sighed, and tucked the stake back in her belt. She just hoped that the little vampire wasn't playing meek and helpless to lure the couple to their deaths.

As they left the alley seeking the mutant that Charles had sensed, Kendra hoped that she was wrong. She hoped for the sake of that couple that the vampires here were better, nicer. That she was wrong.

She just didn't have much confidence in that hope.

End part 14.


	8. parts 15 and 16

Kendra followed Charles as he lead them through a few narrow roads to an apartment building. The front door wasn't locked, though each apartment would be, and Kendra looked at the dull carpeting with dismay. It was a dull brown, with fuzz at the edges, and the walls had been painted an unappealing yellow. She would hate living here, and would probably welcome fighting with vampires and demons, if only to not pay attention to the colors of the building.

Charles tapped on a door, his posture telling Kendra everything about how nervous he was at the idea of speaking to someone about the school and how much he wanted to conceal that nervousness.

Kendra tried to remain unnoticed, standing off to the side in case of some sort of attack. She wasn't precisely expecting one, but there was always a slim chance. And in some areas, the danger from humans was high enough for concern as well - especially if Charles started telling them that they were different, that they weren't normal and they took such words poorly. As good news, she didn't feel any vampires or demons nearby.

She tried to stay unobtrusive as Charles and Erik talked to Mrs. Caitlyn O'Malley, first reassuring her that they weren't collection agents and then that they didn't have to do with any of the local unions. Her evaluation was that the woman was worn tired by her life, by work and stress and time. Apparently Mr. O'Malley worked two jobs, leaving Caitlyn to tend the apartment and take care of the four children.

Spotting someone peeing around the corner, Kendra spoke, "You should come out and ask instead of hoping we will answer questions you have not asked. We do not bite."

"Brandon, how many times must I be telling you not to listen in?" Mrs. O'Malley sighed, and looked back to Charles. "I'm sorry about that. He's a good boy, but…"

Brandon moved closer, still hesitant as he lurked just inside the doorway. He watched Charles and Erik as they made awkward small talk before he looked at Kendra and blurted out, "Why are your colors so red? All red and orange and gold… Most people are gold and green."

His mother had gasped, her eyes darting between Erik and Charles "Brandon…"

"Mrs. O'Malley, I was already aware that your son possessed a unique ability," Charles spoke softly.

"The last time Brandon tried to tell anybody about the colors, he was told that he'd just had his head knocked too hard against the wall, and we should remember not to do that again. Apparently, his teacher thinks switching at a boy's back and shoulders will be a better way to make him learn than beating him about the head. He even advised that a willow switch would work best," the anger in her words suggested that the only head and back she wanted to beat belonged to this teacher. "How that man found himself teaching children is a horror and a mystery…"

"Is it only around people that you see these colors?" Erik asked, eyes bright with questions. "Does the weather affect them, or have any objects or places had the colors present?"

"Mostly people," Brandon stared at the floor, one faded blue sneaker digging at the brown carpet. "There's some colors around animals, but they aren't as strong, or as bright. And it takes a while for them to fade away if something dies. Sometimes there's still traces around the dead animals in the alleys. Not objects, and not around places."

"You said most people have green and gold around them, but Kendra's had red in them." Charles asked, "Do the colors around myself or Erik look normal?"

"A bit brighter than most, but the colors are normal. Hers are different. I've never seen anyone with red like that before," Brandon shook his head. "I've seen a few women who had some orange streaks, but never anyone with red before."

Kendra tilted her head as she considered what that could mean. "Have you ever seen a man or boy with de orange streaks in their colors?"

"Not real orange," Brandon paused, and his words slowed as he offered "Jimmy Keegan's got sort of a yellow-orange, and his daughters both have some of the orange streaks."

"Mr. Xavier, why did you come here today?" Mrs. O'Malley asked. "I'm delighted that you aren't calling my boy crazy, and a bit curious how you already knew he could do something, but neither of that tells me why you're here."

"Mrs. O'Malley, Brandon…" Charles took a breath before continuing. "I knew that Brandon had a special ability because I have a special ability. I want to start a school, a place for others with such talents. A place where they can learn, not only reading and math and history, but how to use their abilities. A place where they won't have to hide what they can do; a place that they won't need to feel afraid."

Kendra smiled as Charles got caught up in his dream. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the corners of his mouth tilted into something close to a smile as he spoke. Kendra suspected that Mrs. O'Malley had a large practical streak in her nature, and offered, "Of course, ordinary educational matters will not be overlooked. Students will be taught what they need to know to find jobs or go to college afterwards."

"It sounds… different. Have you very many students yet?" Mrs. O'Malley was considering the various words.

"It isn't as if I have much to lose, Ma. I know I'm not struggling at school, but I'm not going to make it to college on my grades, and we can't afford to send me. Jobs aren't falling from the sky, and if I can learn more about the colors, about what they mean…" Brandon shook his head. "I want to try it."

"The plan is recent, I've only just begun putting things into place," Charles began. "Brandon is the first person that I've asked to become a student."

"If this school doesn't work out as well as you're hoping, will you make certain that my Brandon still finds a decent job?" Mrs. O'Malley's voice sharpened with worry.

"Of course," Erik's voice was smooth.

"How soon should I be ready to go?" Brandon asked.

"If you came with us, I could put you in a room at my home. I don't have any special facilities set up yet, but classes could be held in the library, the garden, or over the dinner table easily enough." Charles mused.

Brandon chuckled, "And if I go with you now, I might have a bit of say-so in how things get set up, as well as probably helping with the work?"

"Helping, but you wouldn't be doing all the work by yourself, and that certainly wouldn't be the main reason you were there."

Brandon shrugged, "Let me gather up my things, and I can go with you tonight."

As Brandon ducked out of the living room, his mother turned to face them with a challenging glare that would have done many demons proud. "You had best take good care of my boy, understand?"

Charles stiffened, pulling himself up as straight as possible, "Of course I'll take good care of him!"

"That will have to do. Perhaps one of you could remind him to write or call home occasionally."

Charles and Erik nodded, and it wasn't long before Brandon emerged again, with a lumpy carry-all slung over his shoulder.

The trip to the car was quiet, and it wasn't until he was settled in the back, sitting behind Charles, that Brandon asked anything else of consequence. "How did you know? That I could do something, I mean. It took me a while to convince Ma and Pa."

Charles hesitated, considering how to answer Brandon's question. "Each of us was born slightly different, and each of us possesses some ability that most people do not. I can sense mutants, though I am unable to tell what ability they have, and I could feel that you are a mutant. I have met other mutants, and I have seen that ordinary people are often afraid of those who are different, those who can do things that they can not. I want to create a place that serves two goals, the first being to teach mutants to control their abilities, so that their powers are not a danger to those around them, and the second purpose being to teach people to live together in harmony, human and mutant alike."

"I see colors around people. Other than thinking I got hit too hard over the head, how would that be dangerous to anyone?" Brandon leaned back, glancing between Charles and Erik. "You said you and Erik were mutants, and maybe that's why your colors are brighter than most. But… Kendra isn't ordinary either."

"I do not think I am a mutant," Kendra offered a smile. "I am the Slayer. I suspect that is why there is red in the colors you see around me, and that the girls and women you see with the orange have the potential to become Slayers."

"A slayer? That…" Brandon shook his head, not quite looking Kendra in the eyes. "That doesn't sound like peacefully living together."

"I slay the vampires and demons that prey on humans. It is me destiny, and what I will do until the night that I die," Kendra sighed. "I doubt that most demons or vampires would care if someone is a mutant or not before they try to eat them."

End part 15.

For several miles, the car was quiet, the only sounds coming from the engine and the tires moving over the road. Then, Brandon spoke again, his voice soft. "My grandfather believed me about the colors. He also used to tell me stories, stories about monsters and heroes and magic, old stories passed down for generations back in Ireland. A couple of them mentioned warrior women; one kept battling the Fomori, and another hunted kelpies and another battled dark Fae from the barrow-mounds and stone circles. The old gods had blessed them, according to the stories, and the fought with the strength of ten men, and could run with the speed of a wolf."

"Those warrior women sound like Slayers," Kendra murmured. "Did your grandfather tell similar stories? Perhaps of warrior women in other lands?"

Brandon shook his head, "All Grandpa's stories were in old Ireland."

Charles asked his own question. "The Fomori? I don't think I'm familiar with that term."

"In the old legends, the Fomori were a race of malformed giants. When the first people came to Ireland, the Fomori were already there, as were the Tuatha de Dannan. The Tuatha were… I guess you'd call them elves. They lived in the wild lands, and sang, and worked magic, and went away from the Irish people and their iron tools. The Fomori… they demanded a tribute of the Irish people's cattle and children. They wanted a grand feast."

"That would explain the cattle, but why would they demand the children?" Charles hesitated, "no, surely not…"

"Both the cattle and the children were to be food," Brandon gave a small shudder. "The Irish people refused, and so they battled with the Fomori from that time onwards."

"Demons," Kendra commented. "If somet'ing tries to eat people, I count it as a demon, and somet'ing to be Slain."

"Makes sense to me," Bandon muttered. "But how do you kill something twice as tall as a man, capable of ripping arms from their shoulders, and devouring a man to the bones?"

"Swords help, as does having the strength of ten men and the speed of a wolf," Kendra offered with a smile.

"I guess it would," Brandon agreed. "But I don't think there's going to be a lot of Fomori in New York."

"There are vampires. There may be other demons that I have not yet encountered," Kendra was calm. Brandon's words were a confirmation, this world had known Slayers, had stories of their hunts and abilities. Surely that meant there were Watchers out there, somewhere. That made her feel better.

"I think Grandpa would like to meet you, Kendra," Brandon grinned.

Arriving at the mansion, Brandon peered through the window, "It seems rather big."

"Yes. More than large enough to find a room for you, to convert part of it into a school, with all the classrooms and offices required," Charles smiled.

"That should help make your dream a good deal easier," Brandon muttered.

"I shall make certain that the students at this school do not neglect the body. Charles will make certain they can learn about math, and science and literature, and I will make certain they can run and climb, swim and fall safely. I can teach them to fight and defend themselves, to use a sword and a bow. Not all changes will come peacefully, and they must be able to defend themselves and those they care about." Kendra spoke softly.

"That makes a rather scary sort of sense," Brandon muttered.

********

From that night, things seemed to pick up momentum. The kitchen was deemed suitable for now, though plans were drawn up to put in a second one at the other end of the house. A second green house was built, with Erik using it as a hands-on way to go over mathematics and physics as applied to construction, and to cover a bit about plumbing and why copper pipes were better than lead. Kendra and Erik made some changes to the gym equipment, finding denser material to use for weights, tripling the amount that could be lifted.

Charles recruited a few more people for his school, and the permits for a private academy came through, though the ones or modifying the house in any substantial fashion were being delayed. The people that he'd brought in were an eclectic group, the only common thread being that each of them either was a mutant or had one in their family, and they all wanted to build a better world for tomorrow.

Dorothy Weaver was a trained nurse, frustrated at being denied a decent job due to her cocoa hued skin. She brought with her five children under twelve, a shaggy yellow dog, a parrot that spoke a handful of words in French and German, and a husband who rebuilt car engines. The idea of coming to a private school where she and her family could live and her children would be educated in return for attending the needs of the students, who were yet to be gathered, sounded like a gift from God to her. The fact that she could always tell exactly what temperature something was, be that a person, animal or object, meant she never had to worry about someone getting mercury poisoning from convulsions. Charles called her ability 'a little gift, but quite practical.'

English grammar, spelling, and literature would be covered by Melissa Beaumond, a quiet woman with twin boys who could vanish when they wanted to get into things, one of which was capable of walking up walls and across ceilings as easily as most people walked across floors. She never spoke of their father. All three of them looked as if they had been in the sun for a long time, with bronzed skin, bright hazel eyes, and a few paler streaks in their brown hair, though Kendra suspected that the answer might lie as much in their ancestry as in their leisure habits.

History would be covered by Richard Kruchten, a small, wrinkled old man with a passion for the middle ages, a time he spoke of in glowing terms as 'the days of honor and bravery, of knights and fair maidens, of glory won and lost by heroic actions.' He brought with him shelves of books about those centuries, covering the many wars, volumes of heraldry and the rules for tournaments and honorable duels. When Kendra finally had the chance to see his classroom, she discovered a suit of armor in the corner, along with two shields painted with crests, and several replica weapons.

Kendra could hear him behind her, so she asked the question as she studied the mace hanging on the wall, tilted at an angle that would be ideal to grab it and battle someone in the room. "Do you know how to use them?"

"I wouldn't call myself an expert, but I have enough of an idea to not hurt myself," Richard Kruchten's voice carried a hint of an accent, though Kendra couldn't identify it.

"You are more a scholar than a warrior?" Kendra gave the man a smile, noticing the way he balanced himself and watched his surroundings. This was not someone who needed to be taught to pay attention or fall safely.

"Much more," he gave a small shrug and a smile, "Considering that you are taller than I am, I wouldn't make much of a warrior, now would I?"

"Size isn't everyt'ing. What did you do before Charles convinced you to come here?" Kendra tested him with her senses, but he felt entirely human to her, with none of the presence of magic. He hadn't brought anybody with him, perhaps he was another mutant.

"I tried to teach history to bored college students, and studied the changing codes of nobles and knights," he tilted his head and asked, "Did you want to take a closer look at the mace? I've found that most are drawn to the swords."

"The swords would be a poor fit for me hands, they are intended for someone a bit taller, and to be used with both hands," Kendra half turned, lifting the mace from the wall. It fit nicely in her hand, and she could feel from the weight that it would be well suited to a battle.

Giving it a few careful swings, she smiled, "A wonderful mace."

"You seem to know your way around weapons," his eyebrows had lifted, and he had moved back a bit farther as she tested the mace.

"T'ank you. In case Charles did not say, I am Kendra, and I will be in charge of physical fitness for the students. Hopefully, we will eventually have enough people that someone else will be able to attend to the daily details, but we want everyone to be healthy in body as well as mind."

"He hadn't mentioned," A shake of his head, and then he added, "He did say that someone would be insisting on those things for the students, but he didn't say who."

"I seem to be surprising a good many people," Kendra replied.

She was hopeful that the school would continue coming together like this. There had been a few problems, but they'd all been minor, easily sorted out with time and patience. Her patrols had been interesting, with more vampires of the same sort as the ones she'd already seen, and several demons. They hadn't been demons that she was familiar with, but they had fallen to basic physical attacks. Just in case, she'd kept up the habit of patrolling with wooden stakes, a sharp steel knife, and an iron wrapped club, just in case of something that was better attacked with metal, or with blunt force than the point of a stake or the edge of a knife.

Kendra tried not to worry about where Charles had been going. She tried to tell herself that he was just searching for new students, that he was busy working for the school. That it was her imagination that there had been the scent of perfume clinging to his jacket last night. That it didn't matter if there had been perfume. That she hadn't heard him and Erik talking about 'the lovely Victoria Grey.'

It wasn't working very well.

End part 16.


	9. parts 17 and 18

Kendra had flung herself into organizing activities for the children, helping build outdoor targets for archery, and testing the limits of the 'reinforced indoor practice area' that Erik and Charles had put together. She talked to Richard Kruchten about his contacts in history and university circles, and Brandon's grandfather a few times, hoping that if there were Watchers, one of them might have some sort of connection. Historians who knew how to use the old weapons, experts in old folklore dealing with powerful warrior women… these were signs of Watchers in her own world.

Kendra stuffed the little doubt that perhaps these Watchers, should she find them, might not be of benefit to her into the back of her mind. Of course they would help a Slayer, of course they would try to make sure that she was well prepared for the dangers of this world. The whole purpose of the Watchers Council was to help the Slayer defend humanity from the dangers, from vampires and demons and dark magic. That worry settled in the back of her mind, right next to her worries that Charles had smelled of perfume.

Then one afternoon she overheard him speaking on the telephone, arranging to have dinner with Victoria that evening.

Kendra couldn't have explained the feelings that surged in her at that moment, only that they were hot and tangled and slick, a confused, angry mess. She tried to reign in her emotions, having learned years ago that letting her emotions blind her to caution was a recipe for pain at best, perhaps even death. Unsuccessfully trying to convince herself not to be upset, she walked down the hall, more voices telling her that someone was behind the doors. Erik was in the sitting room, talking with Ms. Beaumond.

"I will be going to go into town for a while; I may not be back for some time," Kendra commented.

Erik blinked, "Are you… isn't it a bit early for that?"

"Not for all things," Kendra replied. She didn't think that Ms. Beaumond knew she was a Slayer, and doubted that it would reassure her to explain. For that matter, explaining that she would be looking for trouble in the form of vampires and demons would not go over well.

"Is Charles going with you?" Erik had a small frown.

Kendra shook her head, one hand clenched into a fist. "He is meeting Victoria for dinner, he will not be following me around de city."

"Be careful?"

Kendra gave a small wave of her hand in acknowledgement. It was nice that he worried about her, though she wasn't certain it was necessary. She was a Slayer, it was her destiny, her duty to go fight things. That in mind, it shouldn't matter that Charles had a date with someone else.

Except that it did. It mattered a great deal to her.

She borrowed one of the cars, choosing one that was older and far less impressive to drive into the city. While she could drive now, her abilities were not impressive, though they were no longer an outright danger to other people on the road. She didn't want anything that would attract too much attention in the less pleasant parts of town where she would be hunting.

She had been talking to Kruchten about old legends, tales of warrior women and heroes battling monsters. He'd mentioned writing to some of his colleagues about such stories, partly to get references to a few more of them. Kendra hoped that he might have a connection to this world's Watchers Council. There was also the benefit that those stories might give her some warning about what sort of demons there would be in this world. And they helped prevent her from worrying about Charles and Victoria. Sometimes. For a while.

It shouldn't matter to her. She shouldn't be bothered by the fact that Charles had commented about Victoria's pleasant singing voice or that he liked her red curls, he'd called them 'pretty'. She was the Slayer, she shouldn't let herself worry about relationships and dating and romance. That was a sure way to get herself killed even faster.

The first demon that attacked her found itself pummeled to death, listening to her growl in three languages that a Slayer did not need a boyfriend, had no time for romance, and Charles could date whomever he damn well pleased.

The second demon tried to run, but she was faster. It died quickly.

She prowled the city, feeling hundreds of eyes watching her, but nothing else was foolish enough to attack her until after the sun set. Kendra didn't even realize that she was muttering to herself until a pair of vampires emerged from a warehouse, one tall and lean, with long tattered sleeves and long tangled hair, sneering "Poor confused woman upset by her boyfriend. We'll make sure he never bothers your pretty head again."

He stopped mocking when she kicked him across the alley into the wall, her own teeth bared in what couldn't be mistaken for a smile. That was followed by a vicious punch to the ribs of his companion, shorter and equally bland looking, save for the ember like eyes and yellowed fangs.

"He is not me boyfriend," Kendra's growl was as menacing as anything the vampires could produce.

"Sounds like that's been your problem, pretty. Don't worry, he'll be sad at the funeral," long hair wheezed as he staggered up from the alley floor.

She couldn't keep denying it any longer – she liked Charles. She found herself wishing that she could be the one he called pretty, the one he went out with on the evenings. She wanted to walk with him in the moonlight, to feel his arms around her and find all the appeal and mystery of kissing with him. She wanted to… Wanted all the things that as a Slayer, she would never have. Couldn't afford to have. She liked Charles Xavier, had feelings for him. And Charles liked Victoria Grey.

Kendra found herself wishing that they'd been too late to save the red haired woman. Except that it made her feel guilty to think that way. She was the Slayer, she was supposed to save people from the vampires. Even if they did get involved with the people she was close to after that. Even if…

She buried the wistful images of Victoria dead down in the depths of her mind. Beside them, she tried to stuff the fact that she liked Charles, wanted impossible things with him. It wouldn't happen, couldn't happen. Given that, and his obvious interest in Victoria Grey, the last thing she wanted was for the too desirable telepath to read the wistful longings in her mind. He would only feel pity for her, and that would be intolerable.

She could feel another vampire to the south, and started towards it. Hunting and Slaying would be far simpler and less confusing than pondering her feelings. This was the reason that Mr. Zabuto had tried to teach her not to feel, to think of emotions as a weakness and distraction.

It was a very bad night for the vampires of New York City.

End part 17.

Kendra made her way back to the Xavier mansion late, just a few hours before sunrise. She had bruises and scrapes from fighting the vampires, though most had been rather ineffective. There had been several demons, thankfully nothing that couldn't be handled with wooden stakes, a steel knife, and the abundant application of force. She wasn't certain what two of them had been, though she felt no guilt about Slaying things that had attacked her first. A tiny part of her wondered what had happened to the young couple who had gone away with the child vampire.

To the best of her knowledge, her battles had gone without any credible witnesses. There had been a few street bums, and some prostitutes, but those were not credible witnesses, and they might very easily convince themselves that they didn't see anything unusual. What Buffy had called 'Sunnydale Denial' wasn't limited to Sunnydale, or to Hellmouths. It was a part of human nature, to explain away or forget the horrible things that shattered the normal order of life as someone knew it.

She left the car in front of the garage, not trusting her ability to park it after a long night of Slaying. Maybe if she'd been driving for years, maybe if the light was better… As it was, she didn't want to risk hitting the other cars.

Kendra made her way to her room and sighed. She took just long enough to put a fresh, still-sharp stake on the bedside table and to make certain there was a clean knife under the pillow. Cleaning the one she'd taken on patrol would have to wait until she'd had a bit of sleep. Kicking off her shoes, she collapsed into the bed, not even stirring until well past the time when the others had eaten lunch.

Kendra woke feeling much better, and frowned at the smears of blood and other things that had been left on the sheets when she'd collapsed into bed this morning. Changing into clean clothing, she bundled the dirty sheets and the dirty clothing into a mass and dragged the whole mess to the laundry room, making a mental note to grab some clean sheets later. She cleaned the knife from patrol and went towards the kitchen, intent on food. Perhaps it would be a good idea to start keeping a fruit basket or something similar in her room for when she returned from a late patrol, or when she first woke up.

"Kendra? We missed you at breakfast," Charles commented, lurking near the coffee pot with a mug in hand. "And at lunch, now that I'm on the subject."

"A late patrol," Kendra shrugged. She wasn't certain that she wanted to hear the answer, but gathering her courage, she asked anyhow, "How was your dinner with Victoria?"

"It went…" Charles paused, pouring himself a cup of the steaming coffee as he searched for the right words. "Quite well until she mentioned that her brother just put her favorite niece into a mental institute. That rather put a damper on the evening."

"Such t'ings take enough effort that deter must have been some reason, even if it was not a good one. What caused him to do that to de girl?" Kendra asked, an assortment of possibilities flitting though her mind.

"Apparently, one of her friends was killed in an automobile accident, she died right in front of Jean. Unsurprisingly, Jean was quite devastated, and has been quite unresponsive since then. Her father had her placed in the asylum, claiming that she's gone mad from grief," Charles sipped at his coffee. "Victoria was quite distraught, and was hoping that…"

"You are a telepat', it would be very easy for you to sort out if de girl is truly mad from grief or if there is something else going on. I have heard many stories of young women locked away to prevent them from telling about terrible t'ings, or to gain inheritances. Or perhaps you could help her to recover if it is grief," Kendra offered. "At least, it seems to me that you should be able to do such t'ings, if the minds of the insane are not too much for you to bear."

"You raise some valid, if uncomfortable, points," Charles sighed. "The minds of the insane can be… very disturbing. But the idea of someone locked away among the mad for other reasons is quite dreadful. Much as I wish that I could say you are worrying too much over things that belong in overly dramatic books…"

"You know better than most that dere are people who would do such a t'ing," Kendra finished. "I would not wish such a fate on Victoria's niece, but it would be wise to check de truth rather than rely on second or third hand information."

"Exactly," Charles nodded, and took another swallow of his coffee. "I should go today. If Jean is traumatized, I may be able to help. If she's been imprisoned to keep her silent, I may be able to rescue her."

Kendra watched as Charles left the kitchen, and all she could do was sigh. "He wants to be the brave knight, rescuing damsels in distress. What happens if the damsel can save herself?"

She spent the rest of the afternoon keeping the children busy and active outside. It was almost enough to keep her from dwelling on things best avoided, and it did keep them out of the way while some of the rooms were being worked on, with doorways being knocked out of what had been solid walls.

When Charles returned an hour before sunset, he had a young red haired girl with him. She looked to be about twelve, with two red braids and a very somber expression, and a single suitcase that she dragged behind her. Kendra was certain that this had to be Jean.

"Charles? Is she feeling better?" Kendra walked towards them, uncertain of the best way to ask. It would be rude and upsetting to ask if the girl had been falsely imprisoned, and likewise rude to ask if she'd become sane again. "Perhaps I can help her wit' de suitcase, it seems a bit heavy for her."

"That might be a good idea," Charles rubbed at his chin, and then added, "It seems that young Jean is also a telepath. She didn't just see her friend die, she felt it."

"Papa didn't believe me," the girl whispered. "He said it would be okay, but I heard him, going on about how I was a problem, and a burden, and how much this was inconveniencing him… except that he said he didn't say those things. That I wasn't right anymore, and that he had to put me somewhere that they could fix me, only I heard him saying keep me out of the way, and make sure the neighbors didn't find out…"

"I can only imagine how upsetting it must have been for you," Kendra picked up the suitcase, blinking at the weight of it. Far more than she would have expected the girl to carry. "You will be joining us at de school? I think I will soon be your least favorite teacher, I will be the one telling you to run laps, and to try falling again."

"Do I have to wear ugly gym shorts?" Jean wrinkled her nose, and image of a group of children in baggy shorts and shirts of a dark blue with no longer white stripes down the side inserting itself into Kendra's mind with the question. "Mr. Xavier said that I had a special ability, that he'd make sure I learned how to use it. What does that have to do with running?"

"Not'ing," Kendra admitted, leading the girl into the house and up a flight of stairs. "Charles wants to change de world, to make it a better place, one where people who have such abilities and people who do not have dem live together. But change does not always come peacefully. Someday, someone may attack you, or you may see someone being attacked in front of you, and I want to make sure you know how to react, how to be safer when danger finds you."

"Like the civil rights protests in Alabama?" Jean asked. "I know that there's been a lot of people getting hurt down South…"

"Somet'ing like. Why should the color of your skin, or your hair, or which church you attend make others count you as any less a person?" Kendra replied. "But many people fear what is different, and you are different. People will fear you, and what people fear, dey may attack. I want you to be able to survive."

"Why do those people have sharp teeth? And their eyes…" Jean whispered. "You were fighting… with a sharp stick?"

"I fight vampires. Dat is why they have sharp teeth and ember eyes," Kendra glanced at the girl, realizing that she must have gathered the images from Kendra's mind. "I kill vampires before they can kill other people. To keep others safe. It is why I know how to fight, why I can teach you. Before you ask, I do not expect you to fight vampires, you are too young, and not strong enough."

"Ohh," Jean murmured. She followed Kendra down the hall to an empty room. "Do you ever get hurt fighting vampires?"

"Sometimes. It tells me where I need to improve my skills," Kendra looked at the girl. She suspected that what jean really wanted to ask wasn't about injuries, but about death. "One day, I will die. You will die. Everybody dies eventually. The better question is what do you do wit' your life before dat happens. When your soul faces de Creator, what will you have done, have fought for, have spent your life doing? I will be able to say I tried to protect people, to save those who could not save demselves. And I hope to move dat day as far into the future as I can."

"Annie was afraid," Jean offered. "She was afraid, and didn't want to be alone."

"Many people fear death, and it would be worse alone," Kendra agreed. Part of her wanted to say that Jean was too young for such a discussion, but her friend had died, would stay dead. Events had raised these questions, and they wouldn't go away just because the girl was young, or from a sheltered background. "I think she must have been glad to feel your presence, and I do not think she would have wanted you to suffer for trying to help her."

Jean looked very thoughtful, and tugged the suitcase behind her into the room. Her expression said that she had a lot of thinking to do.

Kendra left the girl to her thoughts. Some things couldn't be made better with words.

End part 18.


	10. parts 19 and 20

The next week passed, at times seeming to slip through her fingers like water and at other times crawling. Alterations to the grounds and building continued at a predictable pace, though far slower than Kendra was used to seeing, mostly due to the differing technology. Charles found a few more students, young mutants who had noticed that they could do something unusual, sometimes afraid of what they could do, or something that had happened. One that was particularly worried was a young girl who had started growing blue scales, and she was terrified that she was becoming a monster.

Kendra had spent hours stalking vampires after that girl had been brought to the mansion. She'd also found a pair of Maerrocholith demons, something that had been quite scarce in her homeland, as they preferred a cooler climate. At least they had been a familiar type of demon, something she hadn't had to guess about. Not like the large slime-thing that had resembled nothing more than a pile of moldy jelly creeping along the alley, dissolving a sleeping vagrant. Throwing blunt objects hadn't worked, and it seemed to have a corrosive effect on metal, so she'd ended up setting it on fire. The thing had burned, writhing and keening, causing cloying, choking stench as it shriveled into a nasty heap that resembled tar covered gravel.

She was still angry. Still frustrated at the blind stupidity of people who could make such appalling judgments about someone from something as simple and meaningless as the color of skin. It wasn't about what hue someone's skin was, having pink, brown, tan, red, yellow or even blue skin didn't make someone a monster. Didn't make them stupid, or lazy, or incapable. Her brown skin didn't make her simple witted, or lazy, or less worthy than anyone else. That girl's blue skin, even blue with scales, didn't make her a monster, didn't make her less worthy of protection and education. Less worthy of opportunity.

It wasn't something that she could fix as easily as slaying a vampire. It wasn't something that could be fixed that simply. Not by killing a monster, or passing a law. Changing the way people thought took time and repeated examples, it took people teaching new ways to see the world. It would take years and patience.

Kendra didn't know if she'd have the years it would take to see the world change. As a Slayer, her expected lifespan had dropped drastically, from the seventy years that the clerks at the stores could expect to something closer to an additional seven to twelve months from when she was Called. Having allies, having more resources to help her might enable her to live longer, but she still didn't expect to see the same old age that her once-neighbors could hope to reach. Sometimes that made her angry as well, despite Mr. Zabuto spending years telling her to push away her emotions, to remain calm and above such transitory troubles.

Returning to the mansion, Kendra felt a little better. The school that they were starting could help with many of those issues. If they could learn to live together, human or mutant, surely something as simple as skin color would be easy to cope with? The school would help, would teach them that it wasn't about the way a person looked, and that everything wasn't about what a person could do as much as what they did with the abilities they had, how they used them, how they lived their lives. If the adults who were staff and parents spread that attitude to their friends, to the people they dealt with in their jobs, and if the students and the families of those students took that attitude out into the world with them... Maybe they could change the world.

It had been a hard night of slaying, and of wrestling with her emotions. Exhausted, Kendra retreated to her room and slept.

When she woke, Kendra dressed and made her way downstairs, hoping that she would be in time to catch the end of lunch. Despite the ease of fixing herself something in the kitchen, it felt nice to be able to dine with others, to socialize and enjoy talking with people about things that had nothing to do with slaying or prophecies or grave danger. She did manage to be in time, and found herself sitting at a table with Jean and the blue girl, who's name she hadn't heard.

"Have you been introduced to the other students?" she directed her question at them both, wondering if they were sitting alone out of choice or out of nerves.

"Some of them," Jean murmured, and then sighed, "Most of them aren't even close to my age. Other than Misty, the others who are even close are… well, they're… umm…"

When Jean faltered, the blue girl who was apparently Misty wrinkled her nose and finished the sentence with an exasperated "Boys."

"Ahh," Kendra nodded. "Boys can be very strange. When I was your age, I was not permitted to speak to dem. My guardian thought that dey would distract me from me studies."

Jean blinked, her jaw dropping as a fork of some sort of noodles with cheese paused part way to her mouth. "You weren't even allowed to talk to boys? But that's…"

"They're afraid of me," Misty whispered, her amber eyes glimmering with tears. "They think I look weird."

"You don't look like dey do," Kendra agreed. "But it is not the shape of your body or the color of your skin to determine what sort of person you will be. It is what you do, what is in your heart. What you stand for, will fight for in your life."

"Before I came here, the word I kept hearing was monster," her eyes narrowed.

For a moment, Kendra was reminded of the eyes of vampires back home, amber when they fought or fed. The color was almost the same. But such a simple thing as the color of her eyes did not mean that the girl was a danger. "The color of your skin does not make you a monster, not even if your blue skin has scales. If you start trying to kill people so you can eat dem that would make you a monster."

As both girls shuddered, Kendra added, "I do not advise such habits. Dere is always someone ready to kill monsters."

"_Eat people_? That's…" Misty made a sour expression, "That's disgusting."

"Dat is what monsters do. Eat people, kill dem because it entertains dem, causing pain and suffering eit'er just because dey can or because dey like it," Kendra tried to regather control over her temper, her accent thickening with every word. "Some of de most dangerous monsters are people. Some of dem can even be born human."

"But you're going to teach us to fight the monsters, aren't you?" Jean's voice trembled. "So that they don't get to keep hurting people?"

"Someone must be ready to stand, to defend dose who can't defend demselves. Or perhaps someday you will need to defend yourself. I will do my best to teach you, teach as many of you as I can." Kendra promised, hoping that she would have the chance to see how these girls, how all of the students would grow. Hoping that she could help them learn to stand against the monsters, not just those with claws and fangs, but the monsters that could pass as human, the monsters who _were _human.

End part 19.

The building was being reshaped into a school, looking less and less like a private mansion every day. Kendra worked with the children, spending hours trying to figure out what they could do and helping plan ways to get them into better shape, to teach them at least the basics of fighting. In this, Richard Kruchten proved a useful ally, not only discussing battles and warriors in his history lessons but helping her demonstrate a few simple things, and to show some simple weapon patterns.

She had slipped up, mentioning that her Watcher had taught her these skills. He'd looked so thoughtful after that that she knew he was up to something. If she was lucky, he had connections to the Council and could get her some useful information.

By night, she kept hunting, going into the city and finding no end of vampires and demons. Many of the demons were familiar sorts, types that she had read about in books and knew were supposed to be common enough in this area. There were only a few that she couldn't identify, and she managed to eventually find ways to kill them. Decapitation, dismemberment and incineration was traditionally a place to begin, and it had yet to fail her with any unknown… well, there had been the moldy jelly thing, which had no head or limbs to sever, but had burned.

It was almost three weeks after the arrival of most of the students when she heard swearing from Richard Kruchten's classroom, with words in English, French and German. Kendra decided that she wouldn't have heard anything if she hadn't been on her way to the garage to go patrolling tonight. She pushed the door open and glanced inside, seeing him glaring at some papers and swearing, one hand clenching a letter opener that mimicked a broadsword.

"Unwelcome news, Mr. Krutchen?" She walked closer, wondering just what the pages could hold to leave him this agitated.

Richard Kruchten spun in the chair, the letter opener lifted as if to fight, flushing as he caught sight of her. "Miss Kendra… I didn't mean to disturb you…"

His words trailed off and he looked over her, his eyes hesitating at the knife tucked in one boot, the wooden stake not quite hidden by her sleeve, the length of iron bar that she'd tucked into her other boot, and the larger stake that she still held in one hand.

Kendra didn't think he'd believe any feeble excuses, and so she didn't offer any. "I was on my way out when I heard you swearing. Nobody reacts like dat to good news."

"You mentioned something to other day. You said your Watcher taught you to use a sword. Most people don't use that term, but it reminded me of some things that an old friend of mine in college used to say. I sent him a letter," With a shrug, he lowered the letter opener, and sighed. "His response wasn't quite what I'd expected."

"Should I ask?" Kendra lifted one eyebrow.

"I mentioned encountering a woman, a very strong, very fast woman who knew how to fight. A woman who said her Watcher had taught her to use a sword." He paused, slowly releasing the letter opener and letting it tumble onto the desk. "He said that there were only a few explanations, and that most of them were quite unsavory. He said that the Slayer was alive and well in Prague, so the woman I encountered was probably up to no good."

"In Prague?" Kendra mused. Part of her wanted to leap for joy – there were Watchers, there were people who knew what to look for, could help her find answers. Another part was offended to be dismissed as probably up to no good – she was the Slayer! She fought so that people like this letter's writer could keep breathing, keep doing whatever it was that they did. But it made a rather awful sort of sense – why wouldn't this world already have a Slayer if they had vampires? Why wouldn't the Council be watching their Slayer, aware of where she was and that there was only supposed to be one?

"What doesn't make sense to me is… what is a Slayer?" he looked at her, eyes full of questions. "Can you explain this to me, Kendra?"

"Did you know dat vampires and demons are real? Real enough to go forth an' eat people, kill dem in the streets each night?" Kendra shook her head, and sighed. "Long ago, de Slayer was created by a powerful ritual, a single woman given de strength to fight de demons and vampires. When she dies, de power goes to another. Watchers help de Slayer, training girls who may be Chosen, helping find the demons, tracking vampires."

"But if there's only one, and she's supposed to be in Prague…" he shook his head. "Is that what you were doing? Going out to hunt vampires?"

Kendra nodded. "I… dere were some strange t'ings that brought me here. I do not understand it all, and I was hoping that the Council of Watchers could help me. Could find answers, maybe find a way that I could go home. Their Slayer may be in Prague, I have no reason to argue about her. But I am a Slayer."

"Which would explain your strength. It would also explain how you know so much about fighting," he sighed, and folded the pages back up. "I've seen decorated soldiers who couldn't move the way you do, Kendra."

"Part of me training, and part of being a Slayer," Kendra admitted. "I was hoping… Slayers live longer if they have a good Watcher."

"What happens without one?" He asked.

"Slayers do not reach old age, Mr. Krutchen. Like the knights errant of your beloved stories, we go forth and fight the darkness until we can fight no more, and meet the foe that defeats us. Without a Watcher, I want to have enough time to see this school off to a good start, to make sure the students will know how to fight, to defend themselves or to defend those who can not fight, the injured, the old, the children. To make a difference before I die. No Slayer can hope for more," she sighed, and tried to smile. "I will leave you to swear at your letter. There are demons and vampires in the city, I will go out and Slay. It is what a Slayer is meant to do, after all."

It was a bad night to be a demon or vampire in New York.

End part 20.


	11. part 21

New York held an abundance of demons and vampires. Easily enough to keep a Slayer occupied for years, certainly enough to help her burn off her frustration at the letter Mr. Krutchen had received. No good explanation… sinister motives… Was this what she fought so hard to defend? Was this why she had been Called as a Slayer? She rather doubted that she'd been Called to allow arrogant men to mock her. On the almost better hand, being the… a Slayer meant that there was always a way to release stress. There would be things to hunt, monsters to kill.

A few scattered vampires near a closed bar tried to attack her, only to discover that she wasn't a helpless, easily frightened girl. A lone ghoul skulking near a bus station went down swiftly, the twitching body stuffed into a dumpster. A vampire woman dressed in something far too tight and short to be respectable tried to attack her, quickly dispatched by a stake through her heart. Kendra didn't feel much calmer. Then she'd heard a loud scream, a man's voice thick with fear and pain.

She'd followed the sound of screaming, running faster when there had been a deep roar and the screaming cut off in mid-cry. The crouching figure had been half again as tall as she was, covered with supple green hide, with a bristly mane over a skull that had tiny beady eyes and a gaping maw filled with fangs. It had apparently found a couple out walking, and the woman had been huddled in a doorway whimpering as the demon had ripped into the still-twitching body of the man. Clearly that was no misunderstood mutant.

She'd gone after it with the iron bar, judging the knife too small to be practical against that large of a foe. The hide may have been thicker than that of a human, but she could see that her strikes were hurting it. The talons at the ends of each of the three fingers had ruined her jacket, and left smaller wounds over her arms and shoulders, but she had kept it from getting any solid hits to her throat or belly.

She'd managed to get a solid hit to the monster's head, dropping it to the ground. Catching her breath, she'd switched to the knife, intending to decapitate it to be sure that it was really dead and not just pretending. After the beast was completely dead, then she could see if the woman was injured or just frightened and distraught.

To her painful dismay, it hadn't been quite dead. If she'd been just a bit slower, it would have taken her arm off when she'd crouched to sever its head. Instead, those many fangs had gouged into her arm, a few of them nearing the bones.

It hadn't made her arm feel any better to hurl the raggedly severed head into the wall of the building across the street, but she'd done it anyhow. And she'd kicked the body a few times for good measure. There may have also been a few words that Mr. Zabuto had not known that she'd picked up…

Vanessa had been uninjured, but terribly upset. Kendra insisted on walking with her back to the woman's small apartment, not wanting anything else to happen to her that night. In her current state, she would have been easy prey for too many predators. In a pleasant twist of fate, Vanessa's roommate Annette had been a nurse, and had insisted on treating Kendra's arm.

Having the wound washed with some sort of stinging antiseptic before allowing Annette to sew it up with far too many stitches hadn't made the night feel any better, but it would help the wound. She had listened quietly as Annette had fretted about rabies vaccinations, and left her apparent belief that it had been caused by a large and very angry dog pass unchallenged. Kendra had nodded solemnly at the instructions to keep the wound clean, to have the bandages changed at least daily, more often if the wounds appeared to be draining, and to monitor for signs of fever or discoloration and swelling at the wounds.

Kendra had listened to the instructions carefully, though she had no intention of following up with a visit to a regular physician in the morning. She knew the signs to look for as an injury healed, and expected things to be better far sooner than Annette mentioned, though Annette was probably accustomed to patients who were ordinary humans, not Slayers. At least the bandages would kept the ashes from any more vampires she killed after she'd left Vanessa and Annette's apartment from getting into those wounds, and the smaller cuts over her arms and shoulders had closed over and been partially shielded by the tattered remains of the jacket by the time she had reached the apartment to begin with.

She'd washed up at the bathroom sink after she'd returned home to the mansion-turned-school, not wanting to get the bandages wet. In the morning, she'd have to talk to Ms. Weaver about her arm. It was difficult to try to change bandages on her own… But she wasn't quite on her own here. Granted, there wasn't a Watcher to help identify demons or alert her to prophecies, but she had plenty of people to help her with injuries, or to make certain that there was somewhere safe to sleep and things to eat. Her circumstances could be far worse… and had been, on some occasions.

Kendra missed the group breakfast, and stopped by the kitchen to grab some fruit that she could take with her while she put the children through their morning physical training. She promised herself to speak to Ms Weaver after the children went on to their classes, and to be sure she ate plenty of lunch. With a small sigh, she went outside.

Kendra watched the children running laps around the portion of the grounds that had been made over into a track. Some of them had good form for running, others needed a bit more work, and there was plenty of variation in speed. The Weaver twins were quite fast, easily reaching speeds that would be the envy of most adults, and comparable to certain sorts of annoying demons. It helped explain how they slipped out of trouble so easily.

After a few laps, she allowed the youngest children to go play on the playground that had been set up, currently no more than a slide and a set of swings. She set another group to the basketball court with instructions to pass the basketballs back and forth and for everyone to take turns shooting at the basket. It wasn't that she really expected them to all become brilliant basketball players as that she wanted them to work on their coordination, aim, and awareness of the locations of people around them. If they had fun at the same time, they would learn better and complain less… Kendra tried not to let herself be envious of the fact that they could have fun while learning. She could still hear an echo of what Mr. Zabuto had told her – "a Slayer did not have time for fun."

Eventually, the time came to shoo the children off to where they would have their next lessons. She watched as Jean and Misty walked away, speaking to each other in soft tones while some of the boys raced off towards the school. Maybe the girls would be good for each other. Jean had been horribly frightened, both by her friend's death and by her brief stay at the asylum, while Misty seemed angry at the whole world. If the school was fortunate, they'd help each other heal. Otherwise, their anger and suffering could echo on each other and lead the two girls down a path of anger and bitterness that could only lead to trouble and suffering. She would have to watch them carefully.

Her arm ached as she tucked a braid behind her ear, and Kendra sighed. It was definitely time to find Ms. Weaver and talk about her injury.

End part 21.


	12. parts 22 and 23

"Well, this has certainly been cleaned up, and the stitches were placed quite well, considering that they were in an arm and you were probably awake. If I hadn't seen you yesterday before dinner to know that you had no injuries, I'd think these were a few days old already," Ms. Weaver shook her head, and sighed. "These are healing nicely, but what I have to ask is what caused this? The pattern suggests something with a very large mouth and very sharp teeth bit you, almost like a shark, but there shouldn't be any sharks in the city, and you wouldn't be swimming with them."

"The helpful nurse who put the stitches in assumed it was a dog, and suggested I make certain to watch for signs of rabies," Kendra allowed herself to smile.

"A dog?" Ms. Weaver glanced at the many stitches and snorted. "What really happened?"

"I let her think it was a dog because that would be easier for her to deal wit, to understand," Kendra paused, and looked at the nurse. She hadn't talked much about her past, and Kendra had no idea if she had any previous encounters with magic, or demons, or vampires. But as the closest source of care, she would have to find out eventually.

"Life isn't about easy answers, Kendra," her voice held traces of old sorrow.

"It was a demon. It attacked a couple who were out for a walk, killed de man, would have likely gone after de woman. Vanessa was very upset, and I walked her back to her apartment. She happened to share de apartment wit' a nurse, who put in the stitches," Kendra shook her head. "It is me destiny to hunt and slay demons and vampires. This will not be me last wound from fighting."

"What will be the last one? It looks like this thing came close to catching your bone… how large was this… demon?" Professional concern for the injury warred with dismay and fear.

"One day, I will not be strong enough, fast enough. One day, this will be de death of me," Kendra answered, her voice low. "I do not expect it to be a gentle death."

"If you know that this will one day kill you, then why…?" the woman couldn't find the words to finish her question, her eyes growing wide and her color taking on an unflattering greyness.

"If not me, who? I know some of what is out dere, and could not stand back and do not'ing while monsters kill people, destroy hopes and futures and families. Everyone dies one day, I want to do somet'ing worth it before dat day comes," Kendra sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit, "An' I do not want that day to be soon."

"Do you intend to take any of the students with you? Or our future professors, Charles and Erik? Tell me that you at least have a good supply of weapons," the nurse's tone had become pleading.

"At this moment, none of de students would be able to help fight such monsters. They are young, they do not have the strength or skills that would be needed. If I live long enough, if we someday have a student who might be able to help, then I might ask that person. But not unless they have the skills, have the right mindset, unless they are willing. This is my destiny, not theirs, they should get to choose. As for Charles and Erik, Charles has been seeing Miss Victoria, and Erik… he went the other night, but one of the vampires was very unsettling to him, and I do not know if he will go hunting wit' me again." Kendra paused, letting her mind go over the ideas of either of them hunting with her. Erik's abilities were better suited for a fight, but she would enjoy Charles' company so much… "I take many weapons wit' me."

"Oh dear…" for a few moments, the nurse just stared at the stitches in Kendra's arm, before she sighed. "I guess this means I'll be patching you up a lot. We might want to find a skilled and tolerant surgeon as well."

"I could no more deny me destiny than you could not know how warm or cold t'ings are around you. You heal, you offer soothing words, you help people get better, you are a shield for those who need protected," Kendra tried to find the words to help the older woman understand. "I am the sword, to slay dangers that many others do not even know exist. Dangers they do not want to know."

"You are not just a weapon, you're a person. Nobody has the right to convince you otherwise," the words had a bitter undertone that suggested that Dorothy Weaver had a few unwelcome memories that tied in to the matter of personal status and who was or wasn't a person.

"I t'ink in this place, I can be a person, be Kendra," she frowned at the stitches, thinking that it was all very well to say that she was allowed to be Kendra here. The problem was that besides being the Slayer, who was Kendra? She'd never had the chance before, and now… there were so many other things going on to distract her from asking silly questions about her likes and hopes.

"Why don't you ever use more than that? You're always Kendra, or Miss Kendra if the students are around. Why is that?" Ms. Weaver was frowning again as she asked.

"It is the only name I know. I was raised to be the Slayer. Mr. Zabuto, the one who raised me, told me that a Slayer had no family, they protected the whole world. That my birth family knew what an honor it was for their child to have the potential to become the Slayer, and that they had given me to the Watchers to raise in a fitting manner. I did not know them, not even their names," Kendra explained. She'd tried to explain this to Buffy, when they'd first met. The blond Slayer hadn't understood, had though the whole idea was horrible, that it had left Kendra deprived and missing something important and vital in her upbringing. At the time, Kendra had thought Buffy was being silly.

Judging from the appalled expression on Ms. Weaver's face, Buffy wasn't the only one who thought that way about her upbringing. As the nurse sputtered incomprehensible fragments of words and swearing, Kendra concluded that the woman was more than appalled, she was furious.

It made Kendra wonder if there just might be some truth to what Buffy had said. That maybe she had been wronged by her upbringing.

End part 22.

"Miss Kendra, can you help us?"

Jean's worried voice pulled Kendra from her thoughts. The distraction was welcome, as her mood had become quite close to brooding, or perhaps sulking, and neither was acceptable or productive. A Slayer had better things to do with her time than brood over what could not be changed, or sulk because life did not follow her whims.

She looked up, seeing Jean and a blue Jean… the same blue as Misty's scales, but not the normal features for the other girl. "Misty? You are aware that you look remarkably like Jean right now."

"We were talking and then I changed and… and I don't know how it happened or how to fix it!" Misty's voice was higher, faster than normal, and her hands were clenched.

"Let us find a quieter area to talk about this. Perhaps one of the back corners of the garden, or near the lake?" Kendra offered. At the least, going somewhere quiet and less likely to be interrupted might help the girls to calm down.

The girls were quiet for a few moments before they spoke at the same moment, both voices blending together, "the lake."

The walk to the lakeshore was quiet, though Kendra did mention that the path made an excellent morning jog, and that getting into better shape could only benefit both girls. Once there, they settled along the beach, well above the high water line. Jean and Misty fidgeted a bit on the pebbly sand, not used to sitting on such a surface.

"We were talking about the history paper, and then… and Misty started to look different. It was sort of gradual, and then I was looking at a blue me," Jean offered.

"I didn't mean to," Misty muttered.

"Has this happened before? Your appearance changing to resemble that of someone else," Kendra asked. Part of her wondered if it would be unsettling to look at someone who shared your features but had such a different complexion. Another part of her mind was sorting through memories of different types of demons. There were several sorts who could perform a degree of shape-changing, even a couple that were highly metamorphic. While Misty didn't feel like a demon, some of the principles might carry over.

"yes," the word was almost too quiet to hear.

"Have you ever changed size, or to a shape that wasn't shaped like a person?" Kendra asked. There were six, maybe seven types that she was remembering, six types of demons and one aftereffect of a mystical ritual. If she could figure out which explanation was the closest for Misty…

"No. Normally I look a bit like someone else, but it fades after a while. I looked a bit like my mom for almost an hour once," Misty sighed.

"Does your hair ever change, or are you just lucky that I'm a redhead too?" Jean asked. "That seems a lot more interesting than hearing what people didn't say."

"Sometimes my hair changes. Sometimes it happens just because," Misty sighed and leaned her chin on her hand.

Kendra considered the girl a few moments before asking her next question, "Charles… Professor Xavier believes that the differences that give you and the other students their special abilities are linked to genes. If this is so, then they could be passed on from your parents. Do you know if there are any strange abilities in the families of either of your parents?"

"My mother has said over and over that there's nothing like this on her side of the family, that they're all normal. Except for the part where I'm her mistake, the reason why she had to stop going to college," Misty picked up a handful of pebbles and started throwing them towards the lake. "I don't even know if she knows who my father is, or if she just had too much to drink at a party one night. She won't talk about it."

"There are stories that I have heard of some who can change their shape. From those stories, the changing is an effort of will, that if they have seen a person, the can sometimes manage to match their features exactly. I was cautioned that just because they can match someone's form does not mean that they speak or act in the same way. It sounded as if holding a shape was a matter of will and practice, like good posture," Kendra decided not to use the word 'demon' if she could avoid it.

"There's a lot of detail to look just like someone," Misty offered.

"One of the t'ings I was taught is how to meditate. It helps clear my mind, helps me to keep my emotions under control, to remember t'ings, and to push past me body aching or not feeling well. It can help in place of sleep for a while, and helps to keep away bad dreams," Kendra explained. "I t'ink learning this would help both of you."

Kendra explained a few basics, and told the girls to get comfortable, close their eyes, and focus on the image of a candle flame, pushing all other thoughts and pictures out of their minds. She watched as they closed their eyes, fidgeting a little.

Misty licked her lips, parting them in preparation to say something.

Jean spoke, her eyes still closed, "Yes, I can really hear what people are thinking. I'd like to not hear what they're thinking most of the time. Toby was trying to cheat for the quiz. Justin smokes when he thinks nobody's watching. And Nurse Weaver listens to Elvis Presley."

"When you are more skilled, there are tricks that I know that are to help keep others from influencing my mind. They may help you to keep the t'oughts of others out of yours," Kendra didn't add that Jean was supposed to be trying to meditate instead of answering Misty's questions, or that most would consider it more polite to let someone ask the questions before they were answered.

"Yes Miss Kendra."

She had the feeling that trying to teach these girls how to meditate would be its own sort of challenge. Not as painful as fighting vampires, not as easy to explain as teaching fighting, dodging, and general fitness… then again, meditating and knowing your own mind could be a very useful skill in a school for people with special abilities. But at least this was something she could start while her arm healed.

End part 23.


	13. parts 24 and 25

Kendra had just left the dining room after dinner when Richard Kruchten called to her, "Miss Kendra, a few moments?"

Kendra gave a small nod, "Perhaps in your classroom?"

As they walked towards the History classroom, Kendra found herself pondering her chances of borrowing one of his swords. He had a splendid example of a broadsword, perfect for fighting large demons in an open area. Or perhaps one of those wonderful maces, which would have a much smaller chance of being melted by corrosive demon blood… He made idle comments about the recent weather, words that needed no response or even real consideration, but apparently would seem polite to observers. She was more worried about the way that his left hand kept twitching, as if he wanted to fiddle with something that he wasn't carrying.

Once they reached the classroom, he closed the door, though he did leave the shade up, resulting in all but the top four inches of the window being clear with only a few fingerprints. Anyone walking by could see that they were only talking, but might not be able to hear what they were saying. She wondered if he was worried about her reputation, or what her reaction to whatever he said might be…

"I've been writing to my friend. The one who said that you couldn't be the Slayer," he began.

"Did this friend offer ways I could prove me claim?" Kendra asked, curious just what the reaction would be from a Watcher who was continually told that there was a second Slayer.

"Several," he smiled back. "Admittedly, some of them wouldn't be full proof by themselves. You could prove that you know how to use the weapons, that you know how to fight, which I'm already convinced. That doesn't make you a Slayer."

"This is true. Most who have the potential to become Slayers are trained from an early age in the skills that a Slayer needs. Many who become Watchers are also taught these skills, as dey are the ones to teach Slayers," Kendra agreed, her accent thickening just a little. She'd been trying to work on concealing her accent, certain that it would only draw attention in this place. Attention that could easily help vampires and demons to find her, to attack when she was not as ready, or to attack the children instead. It wasn't an easy task.

"He mentioned that only certain types of sensitivity can detect vampires and demons without seeing them, or identify a vampire that is in their human mask. Some traditions of mages, so he claimed, could do this. I'm not sure if I believe in magic, but I do know that I don't want to get into that discussion right now," he settled at his desk and began to rummage through one of the drawers.

"Magic does make things more complicated," Kendra agreed.

"I think that Charles might be able to do it, what with his abilities and all, but I doubt that Quentin knows anyone like Charles. He said the ones who have the greatest chance of feeling demons and vampires are Slayers, potential Slayers, and certain families that carry the potential."

"I was told that many Watchers are drawn from families that carry the potential. That the potential can rest through generations before being strong enough that a daughter might be Called," Kendra mused. She'd wondered occasionally what happened to the girls who trained their potential and were never Called, if they became Watchers, or married Watchers, or if they just left to try to build a life on their own. Mr. Zabuto had told her once that if she wasn't Called by twenty, then she wouldn't be Called at all unless the end of the world threatened.

"You'll understand, I hope, if I'd rather not go out looking for demons and vampires to see if you can feel them before they attack us," his voice suggested that the words were almost a joke, though the subject was too serious to be amusing.

"That would not be a wise idea. If we found too many, you could be in great danger," Kendra agreed.

"I think the easiest thing would be to test your strength and reflexes. I know that you're strong, but that doesn't always mean Slayer strong. Especially here, you could still be a mutant, but it would definitely prove that you could do things that ordinary humans couldn't."

Kendra pulled up her sleeve, revealing the gauze that was wrapped around her arm, and pulled a roll of fresh gauze from her pocket. "I was injured on patrol, and I do not wish to do t'ings that would strain dis arm while it is healing. As a Slayer, I will heal faster than an ordinary human, but it will still take some time."

Producing a small knife, she sliced away the old bandages, which she could see were ready to be changed. There were small spots of reddish brown, and a few more that were almost a yellow. As the gauze fell down into his round metal trash can, Richard Kruchten's face took on a paler, almost greenish cast and his eyebrows rose higher while his mouth tightened.

The last of the gauze fell away, revealing the ragged bite that swept over her forearm, now framed by a slight swelling and dark purple bruising. The stitches were a pale tan that showed up very well against her skin, even where it wasn't purple from the bruising. To Kendra's relief, there was no pus, no foul odor, and only a little swelling from the bruising, and no more pain than she'd expect from having such a large and deep bite wound.

He made a small noise.

"It will heal. I can show you a few feats of strength and of reflexes, but I would prefer to avoid flips or much use of this arm for a few more days. If you could hold the end of the gauze just on the inside of me wrist, please?" Kendra let the end of the gauze dangle. His dismayed expression convinced her that he'd taken a far closer look at the injury than he'd wanted, and was now quite convinced of its severity.

With just a little bit of assistance from Richard Kruchten, Kendra re-bandaged her arm. "We can go to the gym, and I will lift some t'ings, as much as possible wit one hand. Perhaps you could toss a knife towards me, catching knives is a normal test of a Slayer. If you can catch a thrown knife, you can probably block a demon fist."

"You're asking me to throw a knife at you?"

"So long as it isn't when I have me back to you, there should be no trouble. Shall we go to de gym?" Kendra gave a small smile.

"Are you certain that if I throw a knife, you can catch it?" He picked up that letter opener that looked like a miniature broadsword from his desk.

"Go ahead."

She wasn't pleased by the way he looked so shocked when she did catch the little sword. Had he thought that she was joking about her abilities?

In the gym, she lifted a variety of things, and used her good arm to lift the weight bar, which currently held somewhere a bit past four hundred pounds. "I t'ink much more than dis an' I would need to help balance wit me other hand."

"You're holding four hundred and thirty pounds up with one hand. No ordinary woman could do that, certainly not while making it look so casual," he was staring, eyes shifting from her gauze wrapped arm to the hand on the bar, to the weights on the far end before slipping back towards her injured arm. "You've certainly convinced me about your strength and reflexes."

"Good to know," Kendra smiled at him, lowering the weighted bar to the ground.

"If I tell him about this, maybe Quentin can come here and help figure out how this happened? How you ended up here, maybe even a way to get you home?" his words were soft, and his eyes fixed at the weight, suggesting that he was still trying to understand how she could do that.

"An explanation would be appreciated," Kendra murmured. When she'd first awakened in this world, she would have jumped at the chance to go home… as much as her injury would permit, at least. Now the idea was not quite as appealing. She would miss debating with Charles and Erik, and she'd promised to help teach the students to fight, to not be as easily injured. To teach Jean and Misty how to meditate. She would miss Charles, though that might make things much simpler.

"I'll write to him."

End part 24.

Kendra left Richard Kruchten to his thoughts and efforts at composing a letter to his associate the Watcher, this Quentin. As she walked away, it occurred to her that she didn't know how long it would take him to compose his letter, or how long for the letter to reach his friend. Or even if his friend would come to Westchester, New York in response. Let alone a timeframe for such a visit…

She walked along the hallway, trying to focus on what she could do while still injured. Meditation lessons for Jean and Misty, encouraging running and basketball for all the children…

"Good evening Kendra. I'm surprised you aren't preparing to go on another patrol," Charles spoke from one of the rooms further down the hallway.

"Not tonight," she offered a thin smile. "I was bitten by a demon last night, and need to give me arm time to heal."

"A demon? Are you certain that it wasn't simply a mutant who couldn't pass for human?" he looked quite alarmed, his eyebrows rising as he spoke. Perhaps he was still reluctant to believe in demons, though she'd forced him to see that vampires were deadly real… and apparently he couldn't read their minds.

"I head a scream first. By the time I reached them, it had killed the man, and was chewing on his liver while the woman was attempting to hide in a doorway. It then tried to kill me. As I said before, killing and eating people makes a demon, and demons must be slain," she countered. Kendra focused on the memory of the demon, crouched over Vanessa's boyfriend, and on the memory of her arm after that fight. She wasn't certain if the memory of decapitating it and kicking the severed head into the building across the street went to Charles or not. "I lost count of the stitches in me arm, and do not think I will be patrolling for perhaps a week."

"Ahh… yes, definitely quite hostile. Your arm… are you certain that it will be healed enough in a week to resume patrols?" Charles stammered, his gaze dropping to the gauze before rising to meet her eyes.

"Slayers heal quickly," Kendra reminded him.

"You did mention that when you first came here," he admitted.

"Have you and Erik been making progress with your mutant scanner?" Kendra hoped to change the subject away from her injury, away from patrols.

Charles gave a smile and a chuckle, "A bit. We put it together, plugged it into the socket, and promptly blacked out the basement. So after we replaced the fuse, we put in a generator for the Cerebral Scanner, and there were no sparks, no smoke, and no scents of scorching wiring."

"A bit of progress then. Have you tested to see if it actually works?" She smiled back at him.

"Well," Charles fidgeted a little, before admitting, "We thought about it. But Erik said that the electrical current running through the helmet to amplify innate detections was strong enough that it could be harmful…"

"So you need to make a few more adjustments, so that you do not give yourself an electric shock when you attempt to use it?"

Charles nodded, "Without removing the enhancing effect. It seems to be a tricky balance."

"Most t'ings that are worthwhile are hard. If it is not worth fighting for, bleeding for, then why go after it? If you are not willing to work, to fret and fail and try again, then how will you know you have accomplished anything? You and Erik are trying to build a tool to change de whole world. Why should it be easy?" Kendra spoke slowly, trying to keep her accent from surfacing.

"I suppose it does seem more understandable when you put it into that perspective," Charles admitted.

"I think your school will be a faster tool to change de world. It does not matter how far away you can find mutants unless you can get to them and teach them to work towards a more peaceful future. To give dem the tools they will need when they face adversity and danger, fear and anger at them just for being different. To persuade them that the future you want is a good goal, one worth working and fighting and maybe even dying for," Kendra offered. "An' de school is less likely to give you electric shocks."

She didn't expect him to sigh and slump against the wall, rubbing his temple.

"Charles? You look… more den electrical shocks are bothering you. Will you talk t' me about your problems?" she moved closer, reaching out to place her hand against his shoulder.

"You understand how important the school is to me. Why I want to change the world, and teach young mutants to build a better tomorrow," he leaned against her, and whispered, "Why can't Victoria understand? Why does she keep expecting Jean to go back to the way she was before?"

"She does not understand what happened to Jean. She knows that her friend died, but not that Jean was with her, that their minds were touching. Victoria does not understand how much somet'ing like that would hurt. Jean will never be the same as she was before her friend died. She might gain control over her power, she might stop having nightmares, but Jean – like the rest of us – can only go forwards wit her life," Kendra whispered. "Death is hard to understand, and it hurts the first time."

"When does it stop hurting?" Charles murmured.

"Eventually, the pain of her friend's death will lessen. The same will happen for those she will lose in de future. But if it ever stops hurting to lose the ones around you, then you have lost a part of yourself, of your soul," Kendra remembered the long talks about death and sacrifice and compassion that she'd had with Mr. Zabuto, and with Mr. Giles in Sunnydale. About how it was part of what made her human to ache when she couldn't save someone, that it was natural that it hurt worse to see a friend's face on the dead instead of a stranger. That she should pray that it never stopped hurting.

"Another example of those things that are worth it not being easy?"

"Very much so." She touched his cheek, wondering if he knew that the pain was visible in his eyes. Wondering if he talked to Victoria like this. "But you do not need to be alone wit such pain. Jean does not need to be alone. Part of this is to teach people how to be together, to help each other and work together."

"Of course," Charles gave a weak smile. "We'll need to make sure that the students of our school know that. Hopefully without learning in quite such a blunt and bloody way as you did, Kendra. Your Mr. Zabuto was not very sympathetic."

As she found herself pulled into the library to look over the plans for his scanner again, Kendra wondered just when it had changed from her listening to Charles and Erik planning their school to her being such a strong part of it. He wouldn't have called it 'our school', including her in that 'our' if she was merely a fighting and fitness instructor.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs and watching as his finger traced over blue lines, Kendra decided that it didn't really matter when things had changed. She had a place here, one that wasn't dependent on her ability to kill demons. She had people that enjoyed her company… possibly even people that might become friends. She was the closest to happy that she could ever recall being.

End part 25.


	14. parts 26 and 27

Kendra focused on the school, rather than letting herself worry about Quentin the Watcher, or her feelings for Charles and the connected jealousy of Victoria. There was nothing she could do now about Quentin, nothing to change his mind or persuade him to help figure out how she'd ended up here and now. Charles was dating Victoria, which made these feelings a moot point, and besides that, she was a Slayer, assuming that she didn't get killed, she wouldn't have time for dating and romance and… and having a family was right out. If Charles liked Victoria – and why would he be dating her if he didn't – then there must be something good and fascinating about her. Even if Kendra didn't see it. She couldn't do anything about those things.

What she could do something about was the school. She kept the children on task, trying to improve their general physical condition and coordination. Brandon and Erik helped her set up some basic training tools outside, a running track with some hurdles, a climbing wall, and some targets. Granted, nobody had any abilities that would need targets for training, and only Kendra and Mr. Kruchten knew anything about archery or throwing knives, but it was best to be prepared. She made plans for more elaborate training grounds later, if they were needed, or if they had the resources to expand. She listed out practices and drills to help the children improve their fitness and fighting skills, and made some notes about the current students.

After all, Slayers did not reach old age, and it would be best if whoever replaced her had as much information as possible. Not that she was in any hurry to die, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Kendra also decided to write down as much as she could about meditation. She could see advantages for Jean and Misty learning it. She also suspected that eventually there would be more students who could benefit from learning to meditate. It would help improve memory and learning, help them to learn to control their emotions so that they reacted with their heads instead of with fear or anger, and help them to plan in the midst of stress or danger. She had the feeling that the students of this school would face far too much of both.

"You aren't always telling us everything, are you?"

Misty's voice caught Kendra's attention as Kendra had been trying to write down some drills to improve accuracy with either thrown weapons or some sort of projection ability. Looking up, Kendra could tell that Misty was not in a mood to be easily distracted by glib answers or discussion of desert. "Of course not. I suspect that few people here would tell you everything about many things. Some because they are entitled to their privacy, much as you, and they do not wish to share each detail of who they may desire or what they might do wit' them. Or because they do not want to talk about all the details of their past, much the way you do not talk about your family. Some people also have hobbies and not everyone wants to hear each detail of a tennis match and how it compares to famous tennis players of the world."

"I meant when you mention that you learned how to fight, or when you learned to meditate. You don't give us the details, and Jean said that you've got something that makes it hard to hear your thoughts, even if she can feel where you are," Misty sat down across the table from Kendra.

For a moment, Kendra wondered how most people would handle this not quite question. If they would make excuses or try to hide the truth. She rejected that idea immediately, choosing honesty. "Yes, I do keep many of the details to meself. I was taught meditation to help wit' me temper and to improve me.. my memory. I've been learning ways to fight since I was much younger than you are now. And you do not need all of the details."

"Why were you taught to fight?" Misty leaned forward, her yellow eyes narrowed.

Kendra sighed, deciding that there was no reason not to give at least a sketchy answer, since Jean already knew about her fighting vampires. "This world has more than humans and mutants. There are also demons and vampires. Vampires used to be human, but now they are not, and they eat humans, hurt them for fun. Demons were never human, though some can pass for human at times. Many demons eat people as well."

"Demons? How…" Misty paused, taking a breath before she whispered, "How do you know if someone is a demon or a mutant?"

"A mutant is a person, though they may look different. They want to lead their life, and are capable of surviving without killing or hurting another person for sustenance. A demon is a monster, someone who eats people, who takes joy in hurting them. That is the difference, though other people would tell you different things," Kendra offered. "I was raised to fight monsters, to kill demons and vampires before they could kill other people."

"And a little never been human that just wants to live their life, maybe raise chickens and cabbages?" Misty's voice wobbled a little as she asked.

"Then I wish them good luck with their cabbages and chickens, and will have no objections to their life goals," Kendra replied. "It isn't what someone looks like that makes them a monster, it's what they do with their life."

"You're trying to make your accent go away, aren't you?" Misty asked.

Kendra nodded, taking this as evidence that Misty was observant. "I am. Monsters do not like being killed. It is very dangerous work, which often leads to injuries. Some are smart enough to look for those who hunt them, and would attack me if they could find me. A woman with dark skin in not specific enough for them to find me in an area with so many people. A woman with dark skin and a Jamaican accent? That is a bit more specific."

"Why do you say that some of them are smart? Aren't all the monsters smart?" Misty was frowning a little.

"No, not all of them. The stories that I was told speak of the beginning of the world, when powerful things that came from other places moved over the world, ruling over all that was around them, devouring and fighting and killing as they pleased. The stories called them the Old Ones, or Pure Demons. It is said that when they began to leave this world, something happened, and some people an' animals were changed because of them. Made forever different than they were before. Some became monsters, and sought to eat those who had been family. Others changed in form, but remained people. There is a tribe of blue people in a desert across the sea – they are people, and do not eat others. A tribe in India are no taller than my knee and can take the form of parrots when they choose, but they are people. Then there are some demons that look almost human, but they rip the hearts out of women. Other demons were changed from rats, or snakes and lizards. There is one type of demon that looks almost like a newt, but it is nine feet long. It thinks much like a newt as well, and humans look tasty to them. Another type of demon looks like a rat as big as a wolf, with grey scales instead of hair."

"Newts aren't really known for being smart, are they? Or snakes, or rats," Misty agreed.

"I have hunted demons and vampires. I have fought them, killed them, and been injured in the fight. I have found the people that they were holding prisoner, to better to hurt them or kill them later. You do not need the details of that. I'm not certain that any of the students here need those details," Kendra explained. "Such things can get ugly, and will eventually be the cause of me death. There have been several close calls already."

"You don't have a retirement program, do you?"

Kendra gave a small shake of her head, "No."

"Will you tell me more when I'm older?" Misty asked, her yellow eyes suggesting that in some ways she might be far older than the twelve years that had passed.

"If I am still alive and you still want to know, I will give you more answers when you are older. Even now, I do not intend to lie to you," Kendra promised.

"I suppose that will have to do," Misty murmured. "Do you know if there are any others like me in the world?"

"There will be nobody else who is exactly like you. No other Misty," Kendra began. "If you mean are there others out there who are blue with scales when they show their true face, others who can change the face the world sees, that I do not know."

"Where did you learn it all?"

"The short answer is Jamaica. The longer one… I think the longer one will wait for when you are older," Kendra smiled. "Charles knows, and he will be able to tell you that much even if I am gone by then."

"I like having you around. Don't die," Misty insisted.

End part 26.

Kendra had felt oddly cheered by her talk with Misty. The topic had been grim, the memories that it brought up worse… Maybe it was the simple fact that Misty had said she liked having her there? That someone liked her company? Not that she was useful, or had a place, but that she was liked?

Oh, Kendra would like to think that some of the others liked her. She suspected that Ms. Weaver would be a good deal grumpier about her injuries if she didn't like her. She knew that Mr. Kruchten enjoyed their discussions of weapons and history. Charles… best not to dwell on Charles.

The future might not be so bad. Even if she never found a way to return home, to her own time and place… What did she have to go back to anyhow? She had been valued as the Slayer, not as Kendra. With her gone, wasn't that the same as dead? Wouldn't there be another Chosen? There would still be a Slayer, two Slayers. Buffy and whoever had replaced herself. She had no family, no friends that would worry. To Mr. Zabuto, she was his duty and responsibility, not a cherished student.

No, it was better here. Though an explanation of how it had happened would still be nice.

Here she was Kendra first, and the Slayer second. Though she would admit to herself that it was just a tiny bit frustrating that even here she was a second Slayer, second not to Buffy but some Slayer in Prague. She tried to push that aside, wanting to focus instead on being Kendra, on learning who she was, what she liked and wanted. Other than Charles. It was best to focus on what she could discover and control, and relationships of that sort didn't fall under that description.

Instead, she listened to music with Ms. Weaver, deciding that while she liked the sound of Elvis and his voice, much of his work seemed too much like a calculated performance. She quickly came to the conclusion that she adored jazz and the Blues. Country and gospel music didn't particularly appeal to her, though some of the gospel choirs had a very impressive sound.

Brandon had introduced her to a few of the currently fashionable dances, and they were fun, good exercise and a nice way to practice one's balance. She didn't quite understand the appeal that they had for some, but she was considering adding dance to the general fitness practice. It would help get the students into better shape, help their balance and flexibility, and be something that could be done inside when it was cold or rainy.

Horse racing didn't hold her attention. Oh, she could appreciate the power in the horses, and the dangers if one of the jockeys should fall, but it wasn't entertaining for her. Nor was the gambling that went with the races.

To an extent, she justified these explorations as exploring the city, getting a better idea of where she would need to patrol and hunt when her arm was finally healed enough to permit such activities. There was a measure of truth to such claims. But it was also about figuring out what she liked, what appealed to Kendra, not to the Slayer.

It was a task easier said than done.

She had slipped from Kendra the Slayer to Miss Kendra the physical fitness instructor easily enough. She had found unexpected satisfaction in planning lessons, and in teaching Jean and Misty meditation. While becoming part of the staff, achieving a measure of camaraderie with the other teachers wasn't quite as simple, she was making good progress with that as well. But Miss Kendra the physical fitness instructor was still not just Kendra. She'd spent so much of her life identifying herself by her task, her role that it was hard to find herself.

Not that a thing being difficult had ever stopped her. It only meant that it would take longer.

Kendra sighed, running her finger over the mostly healed wound on her arm. While healed enough to resume patrolling, she would still have to be more careful with that arm. Unless it was a matter of life or death, she would try to avoid anything particularly strenuous with that arm, or getting it covered with any sort of demon blood or slime. Ms. Weaver – Kendra didn't feel quite right about calling the woman Dorothy just yet, though the nurse had told her that she was welcome to use her name – had given her permission to resume 'normal activities, as tolerated' and added, 'not that I think you'd wait if you felt something needed done.'

It just went to show that Dorothy Weaver was getting to know Kendra quite well. Her estimation of what Kendra would do was spot-on.

"Kendra? Do you have a few moments?" Charles was standing there, his clothing a bit rumpled and a few tiny burn marks and scrapes along his hands. The scent of welding and scorched metal clung to him.

"You have been working on your scanning device?" Kendra offered a smile, wondering if he'd taken up another project. It wasn't uncommon for engineers or inventors to have more than one project, especially if one was troublesome…

"Actually, I've got it working. When it's activated, it connects to my searching ability, and projects the locations onto a map. The range is rather limited at the moment, and I want to make some improvements…"

"You only just got your device to work, and already you want to make it better?" Kendra chuckled.

"Well…" His cheeks took on a pinker cast, and Charles fidgeted a moment before he nodded, "Yes, I want to make it better. With better mapping abilities."

"Best make certain this version works and is stable before you tinker more with it," she cautioned. "Though if it is working, perhaps I can see if it will scan for me?"

For a long moment, Charles was quiet. "As much as I hope that it won't pick up demons or vampires, you've convinced me that they are out there. Hiding my eyes and pretending that I don't know won't make them go away."

"Pretending that you don't know could get you or someone else killed," Kendra corrected.

"Ouch…" Charles shook his head, as if chasing away dreams. "I don't know if it will work for you, but it should be safe for you to make the attempt."

"You do not like what a Slayer must do. You feel uncomfortable at the very idea that a Slayer is necessary," Kendra mused, watching his expressions. "I do not need to see into your thoughts to tell that, Charles. It is clear to anyone who can see your face. You want to think of the best that this world has to offer, and to pay less attention to the darkness around us."

"I want tomorrow to be better than today. Is that such a bad dream?"

"Not at all. But you will not reach your dream without understanding the dangers of the world. People and events will become barriers and obstacles. If you are not prepared, if you do not expect them, how will you cope when they appear? You must be ready for those students whose families now fear them for being different, for those who now fear themselves. For those who are angry and afraid of what is happening, and want to lash out, at themselves, at those around them, at the whole world. For those who will try to hurt those who are different. For those who will try to hide. Just as you must be prepared for academic tests, luring in new teachers and students, and for eventually letting them go back out into the world as adults."

"Much the way a good driver needs to be prepared for the road turning, or for the chances of the driver ahead stopping, or an animal darting into the road?" Charles arched one eyebrow, managing a weak smile. "A school is a great deal more complicated than driving a car."

Kendra nodded, hoping that his comparison wasn't some sort of veiled commentary on her driving. She was doing much better, and hadn't caused any damage to the cars… Well, maybe a few minor scratches to the paint, and there had been an incidence of demon slime. "Philosophy is complicated. Schools are complicated. Beginning new things is always a bit complicated. You are starting a new school with a philosophy…"

"All right," Charles raised his hands, palms facing her. "I yield, I get your point. Now why don't we see if you can search for demons with my scanner."

Despite Charles telling her that she'd won, Kendra didn't feel any better as she followed Charles to the area of the basement that he'd set up for his scanner. No longer taking up part of the library or one of the back rooms, he'd moved his project to a specially grounded room with its own generator to ensure both sufficient power and to minimize the chance of causing problems for the rest of the building.

Settling into the cool metal chair, Kendra swallowed. The harmlessly simple chair that had seemed so practical on the blueprint now reminded her very much of the electric chair. She looked at the bulky helmet and for a moment wanted nothing more than to stand up and away, to say that she'd changed her mind, the old traditional methods had worked well enough in the past. But that was her fear talking. A Slayer was not supposed to be ruled by her emotions, no lust, not anger, and certainly not fear. With a slow breath, Kendra pushed back her fear. "Give me de helmet."

Feeling the cool metal surround her head, Kendra closed her eyes and focused. She was the Slayer, it was her destiny to defend people from demons. She reached out with her senses, feeling for them, alert for the slightest hint of evil, of danger… of this machine doing anything beyond unsettle her.

There was the oddest feeling, as if she was picking up an echo in her mind. The echo felt colder, almost metallic, and Kendra could swear that she tasted iron. But just at the edge of her range she could feel something, a dark, hungry presence. Not a vampire, but some sort of demon… possibly two demons close together.

"There's a purple mark on the map," Charles spoke in a low voice. "Can you tell what it is?"

"The edge of me… my range. Some sort of demon," Kendra sighed and let her senses return to her surroundings. "It was one, perhaps two demons, something hungry and of nasty temper."

"It looks like your working range with the scanner is a little under half of mine," Charles observed.

"But it will project onto the map, so others can help me prepare for the area," Kendra countered.

"I definitely need to improve the sensitivity of the next version," Charles was still frowning at the map display. "Kendra, please be careful when you go hunting."

"Of course I'll be careful. Life is just starting to be enjoyable."

Kendra was half way towards where the purple mark had been, loaded with a variety of weapons, before she realized that she was smiling.

End part 27.


	15. parts 28 and 29

The location that she had sensed turned out to be the lair of a pair of demons. She could never quite remember the name, but they looked rather like bipedal lizards a little taller than most men, with sharp teeth and wicked claws. Their scales were heavy enough to make it difficult to stab or slash at them – not impossible, but harder. Fortunately, they were one of many species of demons that only required sufficient physical trauma to kill them.

As she looked at the corpses, she wondered if their ancestors had been lizards that were changed to something closer to human, or if their ancestors had been humans changed towards lizard. Maybe it didn't matter. Kendra was certain that it was a question that would never have occurred to her back in her own world. She would have simply considered them dangerous demons, slain them, and moved on.

Apparently, living at a school encouraged questions.

Sighing, Kendra continued her patrol. There would be vampires, who would be out hunting. Those vampires should be killed as soon as possible, for the safety of the humans and mutants who lived in this city. She would be especially alert for child-vampires, which were often devious and cunning, or used as bait to draw in sympathetic humans. The other thing to watch for would be a Master vampire, the sort who had the long range planning, ambition, and intelligence to go for more complicated plots – the sort that often tried to use magical artifacts, summon demons, or destroy the world.

The possibility of more allies would be a nice thing. Not that she doubted her skill, but it was always beneficial to have allies, people who could and would hunt where she couldn't, who would continue hunting if she was killed.

It was too bad that very few people became any sort of hunter unless they were raised to it or lost someone dear to them to the demons and vampires. As helpful as it would be to have allies, even if only people her own age, as Buffy had Xander and Willow, she didn't wish the pain of losing dear friends or family on anyone. Perhaps she should be grateful for Charles and his school. She had people that she could talk to about being the Slayer, and Dorothy Weaver would tend to her wounds. In some ways, that was more than she'd had before. Was she being greedy and demanding, always wanting more than she had?

As Kendra pondered if she was being unreasonable and greedy, she spotted a vampire. He blended tolerably well with the humans, and had a full backpack over his shoulders. He also looked like he was heading somewhere, moving at a fast, purposeful walk. Not hunting though, he ignored several people that looked like easy prey. That could only mean that he was up to something else, something more ominous than simple hunting.

Kendra began to follow the vampire. Whatever he was up to, she doubted that it was anything good. That made it her duty to thwart his plan. Regardless of whether she was being greedy in wanting people, Kendra knew about duty.

The vampire made his way to a cemetery, with tall mausoleums, reeking with the scent of decaying flowers and filled with the awful, itchy feeling that told Kendra that somewhere in this cemetery, at least one of the mausoleums was used as daylight shelter for vampires on a regular basis. The lair of the undead. She felt rather guilty at the thought that at least it was late enough that the whole nest of them wouldn't still be here. That strong of a feeling meant either a very strong vampire or at least half a dozen more normal ones. She might be able to defeat six vampires in such confining quarters, if none of them were particularly skilled in fighting. But sometimes there were more than six vampires in a nest… and there was a limit to how many vampires a Slayer could fight at once and survive.

The vampire stopped in front of a tombstone, shrugging the backpack from his shoulders. Kendra pulled herself to the top of a mausoleum to watch, hoping to figure out what he was doing and – more importantly – if he had any assistants. He produced a cloth wrapped shape that turned out to be a large rectangle of deep red fabric wrapped around three tall candles, each looking about as thick as the vampire's wrists, and as long as his forearms. The cloth was draped over the grave like a blanket, and the candles set at thirds along its length. Next to emerge from the backpack were two shallow metal bowls, looking like they might be brass or bronze… perhaps gold, but that would be expensive and difficult to acquire.

Another vampire arrived with a pouch, and knelt on the opposite side of the grave. He began pulling bundles of greenery from the pouch, carefully shredding the leaves into the bowls. He might have been chanting some sort of incantation, or perhaps merely repeating the directions for whatever it was that they were preparing to do over this grave. Once the leaves were shredded, the pocketknife that he'd used for that disappeared, replaced by a blade as long as the candles, looking like the handle was made from something's antler.

The first vampire removed another wrapped shape from his backpack at the same time that a third vampire arrived, this one towing a struggling, bound fourth vampire that was hissing and snarling curses. The first vampire began unwrapping the shape to reveal a leather bound book, with an assortment of ribbons in various colors marking pages.

A ritual, in a cemetery, being conducted by vampires. One that looked to involve a blood sacrifice. Everything about this screamed trouble and danger. Kendra moved from her flat spying position to a crouch, drawing a stake and her own knife.

"Do stop swearing, Carlos. Your death will enable us to bring back the Great Lord of the Dead," the first vampire demanded, looking at the book as he turned pages.

Kendra leapt towards the vampires, hoping that she could kill at least one on her landing, and wound if not kill a second before they recovered from the surprise. Her knife slashed across both the captive vampire and the one carrying him, though not enough to kill either one. The stake plunged into the heart of the one who'd prepared the greenery, though his knife caught the bottom of her ribs with a shallow slice. He burned into ash, and Kendra twisted, kicking at the wounded vampires in an effort to keep the vampire's ashes from entering her wound.

Blood from the wounded vampires sprayed over the ritual, blending with the fabric, spattering over the candles that lit with a sullen yellow light. Rather than attempting to fight, the one with the book scuttled backwards, beginning to hiss out strange words in a language that Kendra couldn't identify. Regardless, the words sent a chill down her spine, promising evil and disaster.

It didn't take long before Kendra killed the two injured vampires. More blood and ashes fell on the ritual cloth from the fight. Disturbingly, the last vampire kept hissing those awful words as she killed his associates and intended sacrifice.

The candles were burning a bright yellow, and had a strange scent to them. It reminded Kendra a bit of cooking meat.

Kendra charged at the hissing vampire with her knife, wanting to kill him before he finished his ritual. While she didn't know what exactly was supposed to happen, anything that included the mention of bringing back and dead was trouble. The way that the vampire was attempting to finish the ritual over escaping didn't reassure her at all.

After what felt like too long, Kendra managed to kick the book out of his arms, and slashed across his chest. When the vampire staggered back, she was able to bring her knife back and sever his head from his shoulders.

At last, those awful words were stopped. The ritual interrupted – she hoped. Now she had to properly clean up the site.

Using her knife, Kendra chopped at the wicks of the candles, reluctant to touch them. She felt much better when the nasty yellow light was gone. She wrapped the book back in the dark fabric before returning it to the backpack. Reluctantly, she dropped the greasy feeling candles into the backpack as well, followed by the knife that the vampires had brought. Looking at the red fabric, she estimated its dimensions and cut off a little swatch at the corner before leaving the cemetery.

She was done for tonight. Best to get this book locked up away from any more monsters as quickly as possible. Then maybe she could start looking for someone who could figure out what the book was and if it needed to be destroyed.

End part 28.

Kendra returned to the school, and by midnight, the backpack containing the grimoire, the greasy candles, and the knife were locked in a safe. As soon as she was certain that the students wouldn't accidentally get their hands on any of it, and nobody would be able to steal it without putting in enough effort that someone should be alerted, she went to wash her hands. Touching those things left her feeling inexplicably soiled.

Maybe not quite inexplicably. She was certain that the ritual had been evil magic. Very, very evil.

She decided not to go back out that night. The lizard-demons and interrupting that ritual and slaying the vampires involved was enough. Kendra went to bed, planning to look for a few extra vampires tomorrow night to make up for turning in early tonight. As she drifted to sleep, she found herself thinking that she really needed a capable Watcher, or perhaps a skilled magic user…

Several people, including Charles, were quite surprised to see Kendra at breakfast. Ms. Weaver seemed to take that as a good sign that Kendra probably hadn't picked up any serious injuries last night. Jean and Misty had both beamed at her and settled to sit on either side of Kendra.

"Can we work a little more on meditation after breakfast, Miss Kendra?" Jean asked.

Misty looked hopeful, though with a mouth full of eggs, she didn't say anything.

"If you would like to do so, then we could practice it for a while," Kendra agreed. "As I have mentioned, it is a very useful skill to have, and could be very beneficial to you both."

After they'd finished their breakfast, Kendra gathered some whole fruits to take with them. Meditation could be tiring at first, even if it did look like 'just sitting there like a lump', as she'd once described it to Mr. Zabuto. The girls might appreciate the snack by the time they were finished with today's lesson.

By the time Kendra was done with their lesson, both girls looked tired. Handing each of them a piece of fruit, she gave a smile, "You are making good progress. I have a small assignment for each of you. Misty, I want you to start trying to notice the smaller details of people. Little things like freckles and scars, the way that they part their hair. If they keep their fingernails neatly trimmed and clean. Jean, I want you to try to identify when someone is near you with your mind, not by your eyes or your ears. I am not asking you to look into their t'houghts, but to be aware of their presence."

"Sounds tricky," Jean murmured, nibbling at her apple.

"But good practice. Especially if it gets you into the habit of noticing people. Wouldn't it be hard for people to hide from you if you can feel their minds?" Misty added.

"But why… wait, does this go back to I might need to defend someone else someday? Or defend myself from stupid people who get angry just because I'm different?" Jean's nose wrinkled as if she'd smelled something unwelcome.

"Very much so," Kendra agreed. "You would also, in time, be able to know if the person hiding over there is planning to attack you, is afraid, or perhaps just does not have a proper home."

"I guess that makes sense," Jean admitted.

"Do you think it'll work? The whole better, happier future thing, where humans and mutants all get along?" Misty was rubbing her thumb over the scales on the side of her finger.

"I think, given enough time and people working to make that better future, that it can happen. But it will not be tomorrow, and it will not be easy. It will involve much effort, and persuading people to change their minds and habits, and there will probably be fighting and suffering before it happens. But there was opposition to granting women the right to vote, and it came to be. Not overnight, and not easily, but wit' enough effort, great changes can be made," Kendra offered. "Will you be ready to work towards that goal?"

"Something like that will take a lot of people working in different places and ways," Misty murmured.

"People with good memories and an eye for details," Jean added, tossing her apple core towards the lake.

"You are both correct," Kendra smiled at them. "Now, if I recall, you have homework for your other classes to work on, do you not?"

With sighs and grumbles, the girls headed back towards the mansion. Perhaps they'd even work on those homework assignments that Kendra knew they had been given.

End part 29.


	16. part 30

Kendra adjusted her position and settled in for a bit of meditation. There had been quite a few things happening recently that deserved a closer, more careful review. There had been several demons that she hadn't encountered before, among them the large ogre that had bit her arm and the slime thing. There had been the ritual that she'd interrupted last night. And it still nagged at her that the vampires here were not quite the same as the ones at home.

She knew that she had interrupted the ritual and prevented it from performing as the vampire with the book had intended. Kendra also knew that magic didn't always follow neat orderly lines and patterns that made sense to the rest of the world. Sometimes, interrupting rituals made other things happen, things that weren't expected or planned. Things that could be dangerous.

Kendra started with the ritual. It had appeared to begin with blood sacrifice, almost always a bad sign. She didn't know how much it would change things that the sacrifice was supposed to be a vampire. That she'd killed the vampire chanting before he'd finished. Sometimes starting the ritual was enough to set magic into motion, especially considering that when she'd fought the vampires, blood had fallen onto the cloth alter.

In the end, she was forced to conclude that she didn't know enough to predict what would happen.

Next, Kendra focused on the ogre-demon that had attacked Vanessa and her boyfriend. The thing that had bitten her arm when she'd thought it was dead. All the attacks that she had used seemed to affect it normally, if she considered the fact that it had easily been twice as tall and four or five times the body mass. The hide was thicker than human or vampire, but not quite as tough as cured leather. Large, strong, and not terribly intelligent, but a fair level of cunning, and far too many sharp teeth. It was the sort of beast that would be called an ogre, but not quite like any specific demon species in the books. Thankfully it wasn't venomous, though the teeth were big enough that she doubted there would be any need.

Except that in most of the stories, ogres didn't sprout from the ground like mushrooms. Some stories claimed that greedy, evil people changed, becoming more and more ogre-like as their evil filled them, chasing away any good that had once been part of them. Sometimes it was the result of a curse, changing someone strong and quick of temper into an ogre instead of a man. But often, they were born, either the result of a breeding pair of ogres or the result of ogres raping and impregnating human women. If that was the case, perhaps the terrible fate that she had saved Vanessa from wasn't being eaten, perhaps before she was quite dead. She would have to watch carefully for more ogres.

The vampires… there was something a little different about them. She couldn't explain it, but they felt different. Maybe it was just that this was a different world, that the difference in the way they felt was of no more importance than the fact that their eyes glowed red instead of burning yellow. She would have to watch carefully for any other differences – it was possible that there would be more than the minor cosmetic differences that's he'd already seen in their eyes, the fact that their brows didn't wrinkle as much, that they flared as if burned before crumbling to ash.

Of course, she'd still kill every predatory vampire attacking the humans that she ran across, if possible. Watching for differences didn't mean letting them hunt and kill at their leisure.

There was something near her. A presence that hadn't been there when she began meditating. It didn't feel like a demon, didn't feel like something planning to attack her… but something was watching her.

Kendra opened her eyes.

The man looked perhaps twice her age, with slight crinkles at his eyes that could have come from pain or focused concentration. A white streak as wide as the tip of her thumb at each of his temples stood out against his dark hair, which was cut short. Between the fact that he was floating a few inches above the ground and the astonishingly gaudy crimson cloak with the elaborate gold swirls, held together with a large clasp set with a stone that looked disturbingly like an eye, Kendra had no doubts that this man was a mage. He was in the sunshine, which ordinarily would mean that he couldn't be a vampire, though Kendra knew that there were rumors of magical talismans and rituals that could help vampires work around that, at least for certain amounts of time.

Few mages were so blatant about their abilities, at least, not among 'civilized' parts of the world. Either he was very arrogant, very powerful, or trying to impress her. Perhaps some combination of the three. She would have to be careful. "Is dere a reason you are here, sir mage?"

"There was a powerful ritual started and disrupted last night. Of the mystical signatures at the site, yours was the only one that left. Perhaps you could explain what happened?" He had a thin smile, one that was supposed to inspire trust.

Kendra would have trusted him more if his smile had reached his eyes. "What do you already know about it and why are you seeking more information?"

"It is my responsibility to protect the people of this area from dangerous magics, and mystical threats," he folded his arms, looking at her. "What were you doing in a graveyard that reeks of blood magic?"

Kendra admitted to herself that this man had a strong sense of the dramatic. He also seemed to have a thick streak of arrogance. He was probably very skilled with magic, but she didn't know if she could trust him. Of course, many of the magic users back home had been able to sense lies, so she would have to avoid any outright untruths, in case he had that ability… "I saw a vampire. He went to the cemetery and met wit' a few other vampires. I killed dem and went home."

"Do you know what that ritual was supposed to do?" the mage demanded.

"I know what the vampire said it was supposed to do, when he was talking to de other vampires," Kendra replied. "But vampires often lie, so I can not be certain what it was intended to do. As a guide, I was told that magic requiring someone to die was bad."

"That is a rather useful, if vague, guideline," he admitted. "What did the vampire say?"

"He said it would bring someone back. Someone he called de great lord of de dead," Kendra frowned. "Most often, people vampires respect are dangerous, and have been made dead for good reasons."

"The great… no, he wouldn't… the sacrifices required…" the mage muttered to himself, drifting towards the ground. "They'd need to sacrifice vampires, and there would need to be multiple ritual invocations…"

"The intended sacrifice was a vampire," Kendra spoke softly. "Who are you?"

"My name is Dr. Strange," he gave a smaller smile, though this one reached his eyes. "Hunting vampires is terribly dangerous, miss…?"

"I am Kendra," she forced herself not to add that she was the Slayer. Capable mage didn't mean trustworthy mage, and she didn't know him that well.

The mage reached into a pocket along the inside of his cloak, and produced a card. "If you encounter any other vampires attempting magical rituals, call me. If that vampire was honest about what the ritual was supposed to do, I can't let that happen."

"I will remember," Kendra accepted the card.

When she looked back up, the mage was gone.

End part 30.


	17. parts 31 and 32

"How very dramatic," Kendra murmured. She didn't give voice to it, but she also thought he was a bit melodramatic, and perhaps one might even say weird – though all magic users seemed to be a bit weird. The more powerful, or the longer they had used magic, the weirder they became. Of course, some magical users were also very touchy, temperamental, and vindictive, so it could be dangerous to speak unkind things about them. You never knew when they might be lurking unseen, or have spirits that lurked and listened for them.

Heading back towards the mansion, Kendra found herself wondering how complex that ritual had been, and if she had found the first stage of it. Dr. Strange had said he'd sensed the ritual, and that it took place in stages – would he have sensed the first stage? Had last night been the first stage, or had they been progressing with their sacrifices and their casting? More importantly, had killing those vampires stopped whatever they had intended to set into motion, or just… delayed or set off course?

When she had almost reached the mansion again, Kendra realized that there were people doing something at the corner of the greenhouse. She moved closer, determining that Erik and Brandon were standing over a hole of some sort, with a shovel and a burlap sack. As soon as she was close enough, she asked "What are the two of you doing?"

"Grandpa knows a guy who made these. Now we just need to put them at all the corners of all the buildings," Brandon replied.

"Put what? What are you putting in de… the ground, an' why?" Kendra repeated.

"You offered proof that vampires and demons are real, that they are a threat to us, to the school, to the students. Not to slight your abilities, but I thought it might be good to try to add some security to the school aimed at the less mundane threats," Erik reached into the bag, pulling out an oblong bundle just smaller than his fist, wrapped in dull russet fabric and tied with a cord of twisted yellow and white threads. He dropped the bundle into the hole, and stepped back as Brandon began to fill in the hole.

"Those are to defend against demons?" Kendra arched an eyebrow, wondering what sort of promises had been made. The objects didn't feel powerful enough to defend against the sort that she normally hunted.

"According to Grandpa's friend, those will defend against the wee nuisances of the other-kin. Mystical pest repellant and mousetraps all in one. They also might help prevent or break glamories and forgettings placed by the fair folk… or so he said."

"There are a few other measures that I've learned about, and I spoke to someone who claimed to be able to build us a defense against people casting harmful spells at the property or those who are supposed to be here," Erik shook his head. "Of course, learning that all of this is real makes me worry a bit more about some of what Magda has said to me when she's angry."

"Who's Magda?" Brandon asked.

"A former girlfriend," Erik sighed. "One that I'm not sure I'll ever see again, and not certain I want to see again, considering how angry she was when we parted."

"Is dat why you've been scarce around the mansion since patrolling wit' me?" Kendra smiled.

"Yes. You can defend yourself. I can if I know that there's something to defend from. Charles can probably defend against… well, not a vampire, he seemed unable to touch their minds, but you did say they couldn't enter without an invitation. But the students are not well-suited to fistfights with monsters. Mystical defense and protections are not listed in the telephone directory either," he shook his head. "And I owe the man who's going to set up defenses twelve chickens and two healthy female pigs of breeding age when he completes the protections."

"Twelve chickens and two sows? That is a good deal for a place as big as this one," Kendra murmured. "You must bargain well."

"If you say so. I'm not used to trading in livestock for services," he admitted.

Kendra nodded, "It is a very good deal, if the man is good at his craft. I will leave you to your wardings."

"Grandpa's friend wanted paid in whisky, is that a normal thing? Not taking money for magic?"

Kendra heard Brandon asked Erik as she walked away from them. She didn't hear what answer he might have given, but she did wonder how many connections Erik might have into magical circles. She would have to ask if he or his contacts knew anything about the man who had introduced himself as Dr. Strange, but that could wait until they had finished placing the protective talismans.

Perhaps she could ask if Charles had taken any additional steps to keep the school safe from such dangers? This had started out as his family home, and he still lived here, surely if anyone would take an interest in home or school security, it would be Charles. A tiny part of her mind wondered if she were seeking an excuse to talk to him, and reminded herself that Charles was dating Victoria Grey.

Kendra had no sooner opened the door when she saw the Beaumond boys charging across the room, one on the floor and the other running along the wall, about three feet behind the one on the floor, the pair of them almost identical. Both of them were giggling wildly.

"Boys! You are not supposed to be running in the house, and perhaps not on the walls. What mischief are you up to now?" Kendra looked at them, trying to figure out if they were running out of boredom or attempting to evade the consequences of some sort of mischief elsewhere.

"Sorry Miss Kendra," they chimed, attempting to look innocent.

"If you are not supposed to be in class, perhaps you should go run a few laps on the track?" Kendra suggested.

The one standing on the wall hopped to the floor before they both left, perhaps to go run laps as she'd suggested, and perhaps to find trouble outside. Shaking her head, Kendra sighed, "Their mother has the patience of a saint."

It was enough to make her wonder what else would happen today, not that she was willing to tempt Fate by asking out loud. That would be inviting disaster, and she had enough work as a Slayer and as a teacher already.

End part 31.

Walking down the hallway, Kendra felt an unusual sensation, comparable to walking into a dangling cobweb, except that it wasn't across her face, but rather in her mind. She stopped, blinking as she tried to sort out what had just happened. There was another faint almost touch, like a leaf drifting across her skin, only not perceived by her skin at all.

It was all in her mind. In her mind… "Charles? Are you trying to get into me head?"

An image formed of the library, with Charles sitting at the table, a cup of tea sitting within reach. A tray with a pot of tea and a second cup sat nearby.

Kendra gave a small shrug and headed for the library. If it was Charles requesting her in the library, then she could ask him why soon enough. While she was asking, she could ask him to find a better way to get someone's attention. Something closer to a mental tap at the shoulder, rather than a cobweb to the face. If it wasn't Charles, then she could sort out what else might be responsible and take appropriate actions.

Opening the door, she looked inside, seeing Charles sitting at the table. There was a tray with a pot of tea and a cup, as well as a matching cup beside Charles. In front of him was a notebook, with a pencil held in his hand.

"Was dat your request that I join you in the library?" Kendra asked.

Giving her a smile, Charles nodded, "Yes. I talked with Jean earlier, she had quite a bit to say about you. Apparently you've started teacher her and Misty meditation?"

"Meditation helps keep your emotions from overwhelming you, and helps you t'ink clearly in a dangerous or stressful situation. I t'ink it could also help her an' Misty to develop control over their abilities," Kendra explained. She found herself worrying more about her accent facing Charles than she had when talking to the girls this morning. "Meditation can also help improve your memory."

"There could be benefits for all sorts of abilities, if we can help them stay calm and remember clearly," Charles murmured. "Though it might be more urgent for those with the mental abilities."

"Perhaps we've found another type of instructor to hire for the school?" Kendra asked.

"But you seem to be doing an excellent job so far," Charles protested.

"I am a Slayer. You do not understand what that means. In older times, before Queen Victoria took de throne, a test given to de Slayer if she survived to her eighteenth birt'day. Mr. Zabuto told me that it was done perhaps once a decade, an' de survival rate was a bit less than half. A Slayer does not retire, an' a Slayer does not have de chance to grow old. When one dies, de next is Called. I can not assume I will be here forever, I should not even assume I will be here very long. Like de Slayers before me, I will one night fall, fighting to protect. Before that happens, I want this school to be off to a good, strong start. I want de students to be ready and capable of defending themselves an' those around them. I want to know Misty will be able to remember her shape, to get changes right. To know Jean need not fear being overwhelmed by all de minds around her," Kendra's accent thickened, and she tried not to let the anger, the frustration, and the fear of her inevitable and likely painful demise drown her.

"But… as quickly as you heal…" Charles stammered, his eyes wide and the hand holding the pencil shaking.

"I will not have a long life. Dere is always another monster. It is me destiny, me calling to fight monsters. That healing, me strength… it gives me a chance. What you fight is emotion, fear an' belief. Those will hurt, and may seek to control you, but most of de time, the ones you fight won't be trying to kill you. It is not like that for me," Kendra's hand shook as she poured her cup of tea. "I am a Slayer. For Slayers, a year past being called is long. It may be a little safer here, but dere are still vampires, still demons. I will not reach old age before something kills me."

"Kendra…" He was staring at her.

"Dat is what it means to be the Slayer. To stand as protector to de… the world. It is pain, it is fighting, it is death. I have always known this. For as long as I can, I will help this school. Help the students learn and understand they are still people, that they are all people. That the people can live together, and can fight against de monsters. I will teach them how to tell the scary looking people from the monsters," Kendra paused, trying to keep herself from shaking.

Whispering, she added the last part, the only part that she felt a little guilty over. "An' maybe, when I fall, there will be those who mourn for me. I will be remembered by more than the Watchers, more than the monster that takes me out."

"There are people here that would mourn you, people who don't want anything bad to happen to you," Charles protested.

"Bad t'ings happen, especially when someone goes hunting monsters," Kendra observed.

"Which is why we will have a medical staff. Maybe people who can go with you when you patrol, others to watch your back and make sure that you get back safely," he sounded as if he could change the future just by the force of his will. "You don't have to die."

"Everyone dies eventually, Charles. But I don't want it to be soon," Kendra sighed.

"We will find a way," he insisted.

"It can help to have people willing and able to fight with me," Kendra admitted, thinking of Buffy and her friends. Her friends, including Xander… "I suggest that all of your… our students learn CPR. Before I came t'rough the portal, I met someone who was only alive because a good friend did that for her. I know that without him, she would have been buried after that day, not gone on to continue her schooling."

"Can you be certain of that?" Charles asked, his hand shaking as he sipped at his tea.

"She drowned. He started her breathing again. Perhaps her heart as well. She is a Slayer. If she had not died, even for a few moments, I would not have been Called, would not now be a Slayer meself. But I am, so she must have been dead. He is her friend and would not accept her being dead, so he helped her, an' she was alive. Do not try to tell me that it is a skill of limited use," she insisted. "Had she been alone, she would have remained dead. And it would be better for the students to know such a skill and never need it than to be unable to save someone because they did not learn."

"Perhaps that and a little basic first aid would be good for everyone," Charles admitted.

"That can be a good way to leave a good impression," Kendra agreed. "It is also a way that the humans an' the mutants can help each other. An' learn to trust each other."

"You do tend to trust those who heal your wounds," Charles had a faint smile.

"It can also be a good step to helping the world see that mutants are also people," she offered.

"Being able to tend wounds after fighting to protect them? Yes…" Charles smiled, his eyes taking the unfocused look of someone looking into the future instead of at something in the same room.

Kendra smiled, hoping that she would be able to see this future start taking shape.

End part 32.


	18. parts 33 and 34

Kendra sipped at her tea, thinking about Charles' dream for the future. Humans and mutants coexisting peacefully. Mutants trained to use their powers to defend themselves and those who needed defenders. A school that would teach them their powers as well as reading, mathematics, history and sciences. "Most traditions that involve meditation are from the Eastern lands. Perhaps we should look to those places, or to the descendants of those lands for more staff? After all, if you can not get along with the neighbor who has brown skin, why believe that you can get along wit' the neighbor who has skin of green, or blue, or purple?"

Charles opened his mouth as if to say something and then stopped, considering his words before speaking. "You raise a good point. Several good points. I may be able to find someone… perhaps you could also be watchful for possible new people for our school when you patrol?"

"Of course," Kendra drank the last of her tea. She didn't ask him what he would do when she eventually died. For now, it would do to think of the short term, while she was still here, still alive and helping defend and teach and offer suggestions. There would be time enough after her death for them to adapt. She just hoped that she could get some of the vital ideas in place first.

"What are the most vital ideas that you want in place, Kendra?" Charles asked. "And stop planning in expectation of your death."

"The first is to teach that people are to be protected from monsters, and how to tell the monsters from the people. It is not as simple as appearances. The second is courage, how to find the determination to continue even when things are hard, or when you hurt, or when it looks hopeless – even if you will perish. Third is how to keep each other alive, tending of wounds, returning breath to those who had too much water, to encourage so that the mind and spirit are willing to stay. Meditation and specific weapons would be useful, but it is more important to have courage, an' to be able to identify the monsters to stand against," Kendra explained. She didn't ask how Charles had known what she was thinking.

"What next, if we have all of that covered?" Charles asked, putting his cup down and leaning forward.

"Some practice in fighting and defending, so that when it is no longer play or practice or games, they do not freeze and falter. How to be creative and use their abilities and surroundings in ways that their foes will not expect. To value and seek understanding of those around, including, no, especially those who have different backgrounds. To remember that every person has their faults and their flaws, and no matter how hard you try, or how skilled you are, sometimes you fail. You may not be fast enough, skilled enough, strong enough to save everyone, to stop something. Even if you can't save someone, you must continue, must forgive yourself. That they be able to forgive each other when their feelings are hurt, when the one they like does not like them that way, when they can't prevent their friends or their family from being hurt. Not to ignore those who are not as strong," Kendra remembered some of the things that she had learned, and things that she had seen among Buffy and her friends. Things that had hurt to learn, that could tear a group apart.

"To stand by each other even if they are hurt, even if they are angry at each other, lest their foes use that against them," she whispered, remembering how it had hurt Buffy that her sweet Angel had gone, leaving the demon with his face, remembering how Xander had been so angry with Buffy because she could not kill the monster with her lover's face.

"To grow up," Charles offered.

"For some, if we can not offer them a safe place here, they may not have the chance to grow up," Kendra looked at him, remembering the broken victims that she hadn't been fast enough to save, remembering accounts of babies and children killed.

The expression on Charles' face suggested that he hadn't considered that. For a moment, he was quiet, before murmuring, "You have a good point. But as much as I wish we could do otherwise, we can't save every endangered child in the world. I would have trouble even locating those who are not mutants, if they were far enough away. The idea that I might have to choose…"

"There are ugly things in the world. Your distaste for them will not be enough to make them go away. Instead, we should teach our students that they should try to help those around them. If enough people want to make the world better, safer…" Kendra let her words trail away, not wanting to admit that even if everybody that she, Charles or Erik encountered decided to dedicate their lives to improving the world, it would still hold ugliness, violence and pain.

"Little steps again?" He asked.

"Little steps can still result in long journeys," Kendra replied.

"Perhaps I should let you get back to what you were doing before," Charles offered.

Kendra slid the chair back, but before she stood, she remembered the mage from that morning. "Charles, there was someone who dropped in for a few words this morning. He called himself Doctor Strange, and claimed that he had a duty to protect the people of this area from magical danger."

"A wizard? You have mentioned magic as real…" Charles poured himself more tea, and asked, "Do you trust this man?"

"I could tell that he is a powerful and skilled magic user. I do not know of any reason why he would not be truthful about his name, though I don't know anything about whatever local magical community might exist. I was wondering if you might know more, perhaps enough to verify some portion of this? In my own world, some magic users felt the need to protect people, so his words are plausible. But I am not willing to trust him merely on his words and the fact that he is a powerful magic user," Kendra admitted, forming an image of the man, complete with his vast red cloak edged with golden swirls and the highly distinctive clasp. She pushed that image towards Charles.

Blinking, Charles commented, "That is a memorable individual. Was he floating? I will have to see what I can learn."

"It is something that some magic users can do," Kendra sighed. "Perhaps I will learn more on a future patrol, something that will help determine if he can be trusted."

"Perhaps," Charles agreed. "Please be careful on your patrols."

"As much as I can," Kendra offered.

Leaving the library, Kendra found her mind filled with questions. That mage, Doctor Strange. The child-vampire that had slipped away with that couple. Vanessa and her friend Annette. The Watcher friend of Mr. Kruchten, who might be arriving to see if she was really a Slayer. The other Slayer, currently in Prague, unless that one had been slain. Misty and her questions about when and why Kendra had learned to fight. Jean who's friend had died. Wondering what sort of monsters she would find tonight. Wondering what new students would come to the school, and what unexpected abilities they would possess.

End part 33.

Kendra left early for patrol, armed a bit more heavily than normal. She had been feeling twitchy, and while it could simply be nerves and too many questions, it could also be her Slayer-senses giving her a warning. A little extra caution was better than not being prepared, so Kendra had loaded up on the weapons, and thrown a long jacket over everything to hide the weapons from a casual glance. She found herself hoping that morning would see her chuckling about getting paranoid and over-cautious in her 'old age'.

As she walked along a street, she admitted that this would be much easier if she had connections with the locals. People who would listen to rumors and watch for strange events or disappearances. People who could help her identify trouble-spots and possible problems before they became disasters. Granted, it was usually the job of a Watcher to establish and maintain such contacts…

"I must make do with what I have, rather than wishing for what I do not have," Kendra reminded herself. "And if I am not happy without something, perhaps I should work to gain that, rather than complaining."

The first problem that she ran into was a pair of ghouls stalking towards a homeless man, one that reeked of unwashed body and cheap alcohol, slumped in a pile of rags and papers. It was obvious to Kendra that the ghouls figured the man to be easy prey, though she wasn't certain if he was asleep, passed out from his cheap alcohol or perhaps even dead. No matter, there was no need to let the ghouls attack a corpse. She might feel otherwise if they would only attack corpses, but ghouls like that were perfectly willing to attack weak or helpless prey, such as the elderly, the wounded, the very drunk or small children.

A pair of knives let her take them out easily, the sharp steel cutting though their grey skin, all of which had the slightly swollen and uneven mottling of water-swollen aged corpses, the sort that were almost ready for the flesh to fall away in a disgusting muck. Their large eyes gleamed in the darkness, and they hissed showing muzzles full of sharp triangular teeth. They tried to strike at her with their bony, yellowed talons, attempting to rip her flesh from her bones to add to their feast. But while they were willing to strike, they were neither strong enough nor fast enough to be a great danger to her, so long as she was properly awake, not terribly injured, and had something to use as a weapon.

Before long, the ghouls were dead, not quite cut to pieces. If she'd taken a sword, then there would have been chunks of ghoul to dispose of, but she'd felt that the greater concealability of the knives outweighed the increased damage permitted by a sword. Without more than a bad feeling, she wasn't quite willing to risk being caught carrying a sword in a place with no knowledge of the monsters and no understanding of her status. The whole absurd prejudice against darker skin would only be another problem. No, best to avoid problems with the police. After a few moments thought, she opened a manhole cover and threw the ghouls' bodies down into the sewer. The stench of the sewage would cover the scent of the ghouls decomposing, and who in their right mind would go searching the sewer and discover the bodies?

The homeless man didn't stir through the whole fight or her disposal of the bodies. It made Kendra wonder if he was in fact already dead. For a moment, she pondered the man before deciding that she wasn't going to check. If he was dead, it would only be another minor tragedy that would go unnoticed in the city. If he was alive… well, perhaps he was still a minor tragedy in the city.

Kendra had no idea how to help the man or others like him. She could keep ghouls or vampires from eating him. But she had no idea if there were more health problems than a habit of drinking too much alcohol, if there were disasters or failures in his life that had driven him to the street. She couldn't give the man restored health, a productive job, or a loving family. All she could do was keep the external monsters from eating him. He was on his own against the monsters of ill health and memory, which could be more vicious than any vampire or demon that she fought.

As Kendra walked along the alleys, her senses alert for vampires or demons, she wondered how other Slayers had handled such things. Had they seen the homeless of the large cities as just another part of the city's trash, as some sort of pitiable vermin, or as more victims? Had they sought to protect them as much as the farmers and craftsmen? Had they ignored them as a problem for others to solve? Had they even paid them any thought at all?

"Perhaps he will leave the streets some day and do something else. Perhaps he still has a future, instead of just more days and nights like this one," Kendra whispered. It didn't really help.

That was when Kendra spotted a trio of young vampires stalking after a pair of men in work overalls. Her guess was that the men had jobs in factories or warehouses, and they looked like they were tired and not paying enough attention to their surroundings. It was obvious that the vampires considered them easy prey, and Kendra could feel their hunger and the vicious evil bubbling beneath their skins.

Those vampires were too focused on their intended prey to sense Kendra creeping up behind them, a stake in her right hand and a knife in her left. To their misfortune, Kendra had decided that they would be a good way to express her frustration with the issue of the homeless man. Said venting involved killing the vampires in a fashion that could almost be described as brutally quick.

As the third vampire fell to ashes at her feet, Kendra could feel the eyes of the men staring at her. One man was as dark as she was, while the other was lighter, though she couldn't tell if the light brown of his skin was a result of ancestry or spending time in the sunshine.

"What were those… they had sharp teeth… red eyes…" the brown man was pointing at the ashes. "They looked… but they couldn't be…"

"Were those vampires?" the tan man took a step closer. "They looked like vampires."

"But there aren't vampires," the brown man protested. It sounded more like he was attempting to change reality rather than arguing about what he'd seen. "There can't be. Because they looked… they were…"

"Going to eat us," interrupted the tan man. "I don't know if they were vampires, but they had sharp teeth and they were going to eat us. But she killed them."

"They were vampires, and they did plan to eat you," Kendra agreed.

For a few moments, the men spoke only in profanity, swearing at and cursing the heaps of ash. They even kicked at the ashes, scowling and glaring and insisting that they weren't supposed to be a late dinner for some over grown mosquitoes. Not the most creative of reactions to nearly being eaten, but normal and far healthier than just sitting or standing there twitching or repeated denials that this couldn't be happening.

"I don't want no rejects from a bad horror movie eating me," scowled the darker man. "How do we kill the bastards ourselves? We can't always count on you saving us."

"These weren't the only ones, were they?" the tanned man asked.

"Fire or sunlight work well, but there are difficulties with either. A small lighter such as you might use for cigarettes might start them, but unless you start their back or their head they would have time to put out the fire. Removing their heads or wood through the heart will kill them. Holy water will burn them, and enough will kill them," Kendra offered. "Remember that they can not enter a home without an invitation, but they can enter bars, factories, warehouses and hotels."

"The movies talk about crosses and mirrors, sometimes garlic. How's that work in the real world?" the darker one asked.

"Garlic does no more to them than it would to an attacking dog. They do not reflect, so a mirror may help you to identify them – windows or still water at night work as well as a mirror. Crosses burn them, but I do not think they would be enough to kill a vampire," Kendra explained.

"How 'bout a crowbar? Or a loading hook?"

"A vampire is harder to injure than a human. Unless you could remove the head, destroy the heart, or keep them trapped and exposed until sunrise, they will only hurt them and make them angry," Kendra shook her head.

"Do they fly? Or turn into bats?"

"No vampire that I have ever fought was capable of either," Kendra assured them.

"So we might have a chance, now that we know."

"Remember that a vampire is stronger than they were as a human," Kendra warned. She didn't want them to become overconfident and be killed because they thought they could take a vampire in a fistfight, or a fight armed with a crowbar. "Though a hard blow to the back of the head will render a vampire unconscious."

"Do they breathe? How can we tell if they're really out or just faking?"

"I suggest kicking them. If they try to attack, they were faking. If they do nothing, then they are unconscious," Kendra suggested with a small grin.

"Normally it's not right to kick someone when they're down," the tan man murmured.

"If they want to eat me, then the rules don't cover them," the darker man insisted. "Thanks for killing them before they could eat us, miss."

"You are welcome," Kendra smiled and turned to leave. "Try to be careful, cities always have many vampires."

As Kendra continued along the alley, she had to admit that it felt nice for someone to say thank you.

end part 34.


	19. parts 35 and 36

As Kendra left what would have been the normal earshot of the two men, the tan one spoke again. "Gabe?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't like finding out there's more dangers out there when they try to eat me."

"Jack, do you think Fury knows about these vampires?"

"If he doesn't, he should. If he does, maybe that fancy new unit of his will know how to get rid of them."

"Right. I'll call him in the morning," Gabe promised.

Kendra wondered who this 'Fury' was, and what sort of unit he was involved with. Perhaps he was connected to the Watchers, or maybe some sort of military organization? Frowning, Kendra considered the idea of the military getting involved with vampires and demons. It had potential – potential to be a wonderful help or an utter disaster, and she wasn't certain which. Either way, she had no power to direct it.

As her mind spun out various scenarios of the military involved with vampires and demons, Kendra sighed. She could picture military funded hunts of anything that didn't pass for human. Picture vampires trying to turn soldiers, believing them to have great potential as minions due to already knowing how to fight and use modern weapons. Soldiers with heat-detecting goggles searching for vampires. "No, even if this ends poorly, I could not have just stood back and let those men be killed. That would be a betrayal of me Calling."

Kendra could also remember an old saying about intentions and roads to hell. She just hoped this wouldn't be the first step to disaster. With a bit more likely fortune, the rest of her night would be without such troubling encounters. Of course, Kendra knew better than to count on such a pleasant hope.

Kendra fought a vampire lurking near a bar, hoping to catch the inebriated patrons as the staggered to their cars. Drawing a stake, Kendra attacked the vampire. He dodged behind a car, glaring at her with red eyes. Kendra vaulted towards the vampire, who lunged out of the way with growled curses. She tried to stab him with the stake, but he jumped back, slamming into a truck. Kendra lunged forward, finally staking the vampire, though the metallic 'pang!' suggested that she had also staked the truck.

As the vampire crumbled into hot ashes and fell away, the truck was revealed to have acquired a large dent and a small hole in the door. A glance at the bar revealed that despite the shouting and thumping noises, nobody was paying any attention to the parking lot. Relieved, Kendra left the bar.

No more than a few blocks later, what appeared to be a prostitute clad in a short leopard print dress suddenly snarled "Slayer!" attacking Kendra with ember-bright eyes and a mouthful of fangs.

Kendra managed to evade the initial lunge, redirecting the female's momentum to send her crashing into a lamp-post. It didn't surprise her in the slightest to see the fanged woman pick herself up, shaking her head as if to clear it. The next lunge was slower, and Kendra had time to strike with her knife, drawing blood across the female's torso. The blood was a bright orange color, definitely nothing like the bright red of humans, or the darker red of vampires, and the scent was wrong, somehow reminding her of rotting citrus rather than copper.

Snarling, the female lunged at Kendra again, her hands curled so that her long nails looked rather like claws. The previous slash had left the top of her dress falling down around her waist, revealing that, while quite generously endowed, she was not wearing any sort of brassiere. One hand caught at Kendra's arm, gouging at her sleeve and drawing blood even through the leather.

Kendra tried to remember any sort of orange blooded bright eyes demons, and hoped that physical damage would be enough to kill this demon. While she was hoping, she hoped that the nails, or claws, were not poisonous, as the marks already stung and burned. Her second strike was more solid, a deep blow to the guts that only became worse as the female twisted and tore herself away from Kendra.

Kendra watched as the female demon staggered a few steps, her hands clutching at her stomach in an effort to keep her organs internal, rather than letting them spill at her feet. She collapsed, glaring at Kendra and snarling words in no language that Kendra recognized, though the expression suggested curses and hopes for a painful, prolonged death.

Despite the urge to flee the scene, to get away before any unwelcome attention was drawn in by the sounds of the fight, Kendra waited. Probably dead wasn't good enough with attacking demons – you had to be certain. When the orange-blooded female had stopped moving, Kendra edged closer. The she-demon didn't seem to be breathing, and there was no visible pulse. Knife still in hand, Kendra moved in closer, almost close enough to touch, and extended her senses, trying to feel for the smallest sign of lingering threat.

The she-demon was dead.

Kendra had to kill another three vampires that were attracted by the scent of her blood before she made it back to the car. None of them were particularly challenging, or imaginative in their insults. She felt no signs of impending bad magic, though she was hardly the best person to look or sense for such things. She thought that she saw a very tall gangly figure lurking in an alley, a figure that retreated deeper into the shadows as she passed. For a moment, she considered investigating, pursuing the maybe-demon. But there was no feeling of impending attack, no radiating threat, so Kendra just kept going, ignoring the tall figure and hoping that she wouldn't regret that decision later.

She just wanted to go home and rest. Rest and hope that she hadn't made dreadful mistakes.

End part 35.

When Kendra finally woke, after strange dreams about gaudily cloaked mages floating behind her on patrol, asking about tallow candles, sea salt, Fyarl horn and Maerrocholith scales amidst images of demon-prostitutes, zombie soldiers, and a library run by a werewolf. There had also been a sword, one that a small green man who seemed to be made of leaves said could only be wielded by the Worthy – with an audible capital letter. There had also been something about a curse on a baseball team, and an odd, thin man with a plate of cheese. None of it made any sense to Kendra.

If she had a Watcher, she'd be asking that Watcher to look for rituals using tallow candles, sea salt, Fyarl horn and Maerrocholith scales. She'd also need to remember to watch for unusual swords, especially ones that looked like the one in her dream. As for the rest? The demon-prostitutes had to be due to that orange-blooded she-demon that had attacked her. She jotted down what details she could remember anyhow, just in case. Slayers often had dreams that contained warnings, often vague and sometimes symbolic. If images or individuals repeated, then that was also significant.

Heading for a quick shower, Kendra sighed, "At least de dream did not speak of the blood of de worthy. Once was enough of dat."

Finishing her shower, Kendra dressed for the day, that twitchy feeling not abating until she had both a knife in her right boot and a stake up her left sleeve. One part of her wanted to get whatever was making her feel one edge and in need of weapons over with and out of the way, another part dreaded the inevitable arrival of whatever impending disaster was causing the feeling. Her best guess was that it involved the Great Lord of the Dead that those ritual-casting vampires had spoken about, though it was always possible that something else entirely was responsible.

At least the few places where that she-demon's claws had drawn blood were healing nicely, with no sign of poison or infection. That was one less thing to worry about.

By the time she made it down to the main parts of the school, lunch was almost over. Kendra collected some food, giving a small wave to Jean and Misty before settling to eat. She didn't even think about the fact that she'd positioned herself with her back to a wall, and facing the door.

"Miss Kendra? Will you help us work on meditation some more?" Jean asked, edging towards the table where Kendra was seated.

In one sense, the meditation lessons went well. There were no interruptions, no difficult flares of Jean's mindreading abilities, Misty didn't accidentally change to look like anyone else, and there was no return of the flamboyantly clad Dr. Strange. What Kendra did notice was that Jean sank into a deeper focus than Misty, one that was less aware of the world around her. That as Jean focused on her breathing, a few small bits of driftwood lifted into the air, moving from about four inches to about six inches above the ground as she inhaled, sinking back to four as she breathed out.

"Jean told me that you said you fight vampires. That she saw them in your mind," Misty's voice was soft, and Jean showed no reaction.

Kendra sighed, not surprised that Jean had talked to her friend. They seemed to be forging a strong bond, partly from being the only girls of their age. "Vampires and other monsters."

"And that's why you aren't sure that you'll still be here to answer questions when I'm older." Misty spoke again, these words not a question.

"It is not a safe t'ing to do. It is very important, but not safe. Small injuries are common, sometimes dere are larger ones. One night, there will be an injury that I can not get back up from, one that keeps me down just few moments too long, or there will be one enemy that I did not see. As a Slayer, it is me destiny to fight the monsters for as long as I can, to save as many people as I can, until…" Kendra shuddered.

"Until you die," Misty whispered, her expression full of dismay.

Kendra nodded. "It is somet'ing I wish to delay. I would take assistance, in defiance of centuries of tradition, if I knew that those who wanted to help were capable of defending themselves, if they had an idea what is out there. Charles and Erik went with me once, and they were frightened. The knowledge that a Slayer does not get old is part of why I am trying so hard to get things organized here, to get things started. I may not be around to continue them. You must know how to defend yourselves, to do that you must be strong and healthy. You must be able to control your minds, your bodies, and your abilities, or else everything else is for naught. You must know when to fight, when to defend, and when to stay back. How to be friends, how to heal and help one another."

"You won't have to keep fighting alone," Misty whispered, her words sounding like a promise. Sounding like there was some sort of painful memories behind them. "Not like…"

"Misty?" Kendra looked at the blue girl, wondering why she had stopped her words.

"It's… I don't want to talk about it." She was staring at her hands now.

"If you change your mind, I will listen," Kendra offered.

Misty seemed to weigh that offer, comparing it to things known only to herself. Slowly, she nodded, whispering, "I'll remember that, Miss Kendra."

What Kendra didn't know was that in New York, a man called Gabe was still thinking about the dark woman who had saved him and Jack from vampires. Things very like some of the enemies that he'd fought during his tour of duty, enemies that he'd been told had worn strange costumes to increase the fear their attacks caused, or that they'd run afoul of some dangerous local fungus. Enemies that he'd desperately wanted to believe were just as human as he and those he fought beside.

Last night, that hadn't been his imagination. They hadn't been wearing costumes, and even if they had, costumes wouldn't make them dissolve into ashes. Neither would strange and deadly mushrooms.

Which meant that the ones in the jungle had been real also.

He was almost surprised that his hand didn't shake as he dialed the number for the man who had once been his commander. A man with iron will and a long list of political connections and enemies. A man who had moved from commanding soldiers in battle to running an elite organization designed to handle unusual situations.

If Nick Fury didn't already know about vampires, then someone needed to tell him right away.

One gorgeous woman with amazing skills wouldn't be enough to defend against vampires. Not when they'd been in those jungles and here in New York. That could only mean that they were wide-spread. If nothing else, Fury could get that woman some better equipment… once he found her. And Nick Fury would be able to find that woman, of that Gabriel Jones had no doubts at all. It would just be a question of time.

Though it might be easier to find her if they had a name…

End part 36.


	20. parts 37 to 39

Kendra was feeling better about the exercise programs that she was putting together for the new school. Programs that encouraged exercise and good health, encouraged a variety of ways to be active, to improve their bodies in many ways, some of them things that the children would not even think of as exercise or work but as play. In addition to the lake with its long pier, an outdoor swimming pool was being added, and there were the basketball courts and jogging paths. Dorothy and Mrs. Beaumond had put a radio into one of the large, almost empty rooms, and once the children found the radio, that room was often the site of dancing, or things that the children called dancing.

She felt a tickle at the edge of her mind, and an image of the main steps nearest the driveway. "I suppose that is Charles again… I wonder what it is this time? More questions? Perhaps a new student?"

With a shrug, Kendra headed for the steps. She would find out why Charles called her soon enough, and if it was out of pure boredom, well… He could probably use a bit more exercise himself. But she would give him the benefit of doubt, and assume that he had a purpose.

On the steps, Charles was standing with a tall Indian man, complete with turban and loose sleeved jacket, accompanied by an Indian woman that she assumed was his wife, clad in a dark green sari with hints of gold jewelry peeking from under her shawl, and six children ranging from perhaps nine years of age down to a child that looked to be barely walking. None of them looked completely comfortable.

"Charles?" Kendra didn't know where to begin with her questions. The family looked rather uncertain and not comfortable, Charles looked a bit uncomfortable, and the children looked nervous.

"It appears that Mister Shastri and several of his children are mutants, and I have offered them a place at the school. However, we have encountered a bit of…" Charles paused. "His English is rather weak, my Arabic is every bit as bad, and attempting to speak into his mind causes him considerable dismay. We have managed to communicate that I am offering his family a place here, that they will be welcome and as safe as we can be, and he has accepted, mostly for his children's sake. I was hoping that you might have a language that permits better communication?"

"We shall soon see," Kendra sighed. She was much better with written words than spoken…

A bit of trial and error later and she was informed that she had a terribly strange accent to her Ôxômiya. Strange accent or not – and Kendra found his accent quite different from what she was used to, they managed to communicate at least as well as Tarun Shastri and Charles Xavier had managed.

He had already known that the gods had given him a strange ability, though he was unsure if it was a gift, a curse, or perhaps a test. He had suspected that his eldest son shared his ability, though he had been unsure before meeting with Charles. The poor reactions of his neighbors and kin back in India had caused him to gather his family and flee to America – a land where they had difficulty communicating, he had difficulty finding work, and where everything was different.

She managed to explain that he was not alone in having an unexpected ability, that Charles sought to make a place where those so gifted could learn to control their ability rather than having their ability control them. A place to learn to live without fearing your neighbors, or your neighbors fearing you. Then Kendra asked him, as a scholar and a father, if he would please help build this into a place that would offer a better tomorrow for the world, for his children.

He had asked her what the gods had given her that she felt part of such a place.

Kendra had sighed, and said that the gods had given her a destiny fighting the monsters that preyed upon mortals, to fight and defend until her last breath. That she was Kendra, the Chosen Slayer.

He had winced, and offered his support in any way that was within his abilities. He'd also asked if she would be teaching any of the children how to fight.

She had given a polite smile, and suggested that a place to start might be to help with the languages of the school, and perhaps, if it was within the abilities of his family, to be able to teach meditation. After all, she had no way to know how long she might be able to teach such things, or anything. Though if she was here long enough, and the children old enough and responsible enough, she would try to teach them something of fighting.

He had been quick to agree, explaining that meditation had helped him gain control over his own ability, and stopped things from lighting themselves on fire when he became angry or fearful. While he didn't yet know what manner of abilities the gods may have given others in this place, he was quick to understand how meditating to master one's mind and emotions could help. He hadn't asked why she would look for another teacher if she had the skill herself – all he needed to know about that was that she was the Chosen Slayer. The traditions of his people did make mention of Chosen Slayers.

Turning to the now-confused Charles, she summarized. "Tarun Shastri was aware of his ability, and has control over it. He suspects that his eldest shares the ability, and will need to learn control. They are willing to help teach languages and meditation, once he and his wife can speak to the other students. If the students here speak multiple languages, it can only be a benefit. And he is familiar with the duties and dangers of being a Slayer."

Charles winced.

Mister Shastri spoke with soft words, "Your aspiring school-master seems most displeased with your destiny, Slayer Kendra. Why does he argue against the will of the gods? Or is it that he suggests that you should argue with your destiny?"

Kendra was still trying to sort out if it was the danger or what he called her 'unsettling insistence that you will die an early death' that bothered him the most. "Until recently, Charles was peacefully unaware of the demons."

He had nodded, understanding the uncertainty and worry of discovering that the world was stranger, more dangerous than you had believed only yesterday. "Such a discovery would be very much like discovering that your anger could set things on fire. Unsettling, and unwelcome, and inspiring fear and confusion… the desperate hope that you are mistaken, that it was no more than a bad dream. But some dreams do not end when you awaken."

Kendra nodded, thinking that his words made a great deal of sense, though she could not remember a time when she hadn't known about the monsters and demons that hunted, about how some people were destined to fight them. She had been raised with the expectation that one day, she would be Called as Slayer. In her case, it hadn't been the unsettling discovery that there were monsters, but that there was another Slayer, a Slayer who had something close to a normal life as well as her destiny that had been unsettling. "It is not easy to learn that there is more to the world than you knew. His dream, this school…it will not be easy. But I believe it is a worthy goal."

Smiling at Charles, Kendra changed to speaking English, "I think they will be a wonderful addition to the school."

End part 37.

The Shastri family had been settled into rooms by lunch time, though there was a bit of confusion about the food. Most of it was very different from what they were used to, and there were several questions about the meats in some dishes and mentions of how their religion forbade certain foods. Kendra felt that the questions strained her conversational abilities – she felt much more confident discussing dangers, attack strategies and prophecies of doom instead of meal recipes and religious restrictions.

Unable to completely smother her giggles, Mrs. Parvati Shastri had suggested that lessons about the various beliefs and traditions of different nations and cultures might be advisable for a school that taught peaceful coexistence. Ignorance of other ways could only weaken the cooperation between people and nations.

When Kendra translated that suggestion, without the giggled comment about sampling foreign foods and seeing just how strange the things they'd be able to manage to convince people to taste might be, Charles had thought it was a splendid idea.

She also found herself hoping that she'd be able to sit in on at least the occasional lesson in cultural appreciation, languages, and strange foods. It was frustrating to be able to speak of demons, of battle tactics and painful wounds, and not explain what was for lunch. There was also the fact that she thought it might be nice to learn about things that didn't involve danger, violence, or potential doom.

Kendra wasn't certain whose idea it had been, but objects had sprouted papers, with the name of the object listed in multiple languages. Things like wall, table, floor, desk, chair, plate, cup, window, door and stairs. More durable signs had appeared outside, labeling grass, tree, driveway, gardens, car, and garage. For the labels in the house, the first words, in English, German and French, had been typed. Other languages had been added with pencil or ink in various handwritings – someone had added Arabic in blue ink, Oxomiya and Sanskrit had been added in black ink, some Gaelic words had been added in pencil, and a different hand had been adding Russian words in pencil. For herself, Kendra had been adding in the Latin for some of the words, also in pencil.

Charles had also found a few more students, though these were all Americans, with English as their native and in most cases only language. There was a boy a year older than Jean, called Scott Summers, who had recently lost his family to a plane crash, and another boy who only answered to Ace, who had been at the same orphanage as Scott. While neither of them had shown any unusual abilities, Charles had brought them. There was a girl with pale green hair that was only a few years younger than Jean and Misty, able to make plants grow by talking to them. That girl, answering to Fern, seemed to prefer plants to people. Another teenage boy, perhaps the same age as Buffy and her friends, answering to Dash, was capable of running almost as fast as the Professor's car.

Fern and Sambar Shastri joined the morning meditation sessions. If Sambar could start fires, teaching him to help control his temper early could be a wise safety precaution – and it wouldn't hurt even if he didn't share his father's ability. For Fern, Kendra hoped that meditation would help the girl find a measure of peace and confidence. It was also one of the few ideas that Kendra had that didn't seem threatening.

Kendra thought that the place was looking more and more like a school. And with each additional child brought in, another little detail would become apparent. Another thing to consider about having something between a boarding school and an embassy. The different ages would require different lesson plans. Someone would need to explain puberty and all the attendant awkwardness and changes to the children. Additional smaller kitchens had been built, and immediately after than had been additional rules about where people were allowed to have food and what should be done with the dishes afterwards – as a guide, it wasn't 'stuff them under the furniture and go away.'

This and a few more incidents along similar lines, combined with the sheer amount of laundry created by so many teenagers, prompted Charles to hire a full time cook and two housekeepers. One of the housekeepers was a woman with three children, who gave the impression that her husband had perished. Kendra noticed the faint scent of hair dye on all four of them, and the odd fact that her little girls had purple eyelashes.

Each night, Kendra went out hunting for the vampires and demons that stalked the area. She watched for clues that they might be up to some sort of larger plot – more than just several predators gathering together to make hunting easier. Perhaps more of those vampires plotting at their disturbing magical ritual, the one intended to bring back the Lord of the Dead, whoever that might be. Or rituals involving sea salt, Fyarl horns, and demon scales.

She hadn't uncovered any signs of strange rituals from the demons, but she did find a small tea shop, with a little card on a door offering 'palms read and fortunes told'. The tea shop had the comforting feeling of protective wards, though they were felt more like a well-worn blanket than armor. She'd found herself stopping there for a cup of nice tea and a bite to eat three times already.

She hadn't seen any signs of that sorcerer again, the one who'd called himself Doctor Strange.

For the Slayer side of things, it was frustrating. She knew that there had to be groups plotting, because there were always demons and vampires plotting, somewhere. But she didn't know where else to look, didn't know if she was patrolling the best areas, didn't know the right people to ask questions. She didn't have a Watcher to know what questions needed asked and the best people to answer them. A Watcher to be part of the right circles to know when things were moving, and when those movements spelled – sometimes literally – trouble.

As a teacher… As a teacher things were moving along. It was something that she'd never expected to do, but it was surprisingly enjoyable. Adding Sambar to the meditation was also helping her language skills. The way the children listened to her, it was… It was a whole different sort of responsibility than Slaying demons, and just as intimidating if she let herself think about it.

Kendra couldn't help wondering what would change things from this fragile balance, and which way things would tip. Would things improve? Or would there be some form of terrible disaster? And would the next ugly problem come from demons and vampires, or from human fear and prejudice?

End part 38.

Kendra had been right when she suspected that there were monsters plotting in the area. Some had little plots, schemes that might make hunting easier, plans to battle their rivals. Ploys to lure their prey to them instead of needing to chase their prey down through the city.

One very youthful looking vampire had seen what he considered the face of danger, and had decided to alter his plans. Playing the lost child had been a simple way to get temporary adult protectors, who would interfere with other adults and deflect suspicion until he lost his patience and ate them. The dark woman had not been fooled by his young face – she knew him for a hunter, a predator. But she was only one hunter – if he was careful in his ways, she might not track him down. He wouldn't kill his adults just for being adults who thought they knew more. He would keep them as shields against other adults, and as a base. He could hunt other predators… the ones that preyed on children, the ones that sought struggling young families. Ones like the one that had killed him, so many years ago. If he hunted other predators, then the Dark Woman would not look too hard for him. They wouldn't taste quite as sweet, but efforts to find their killer would be token at best. A lone hunter would need to prioritize, and he was old enough and clever enough to know that he was safer if he was a low priority target.

Other vampires huddled in a large house, lit by candles and filled with old books. Thirty years ago, the man who'd lived here had made a bargain with one of their number – a safe haven in return for eternal youth. Granted, becoming a vampire had a few downsides, but for Simon Lofton, it was worth it. Those thirty years had permitted him to make great strides in his magic, going from the ability to light candles and move books to the power to summon and bind minor imps. As a mortal man, he'd been too frightened of the consequences to sacrifice more than animals. Becoming a vampire had removed that fear, even as it made the magic more challenging. His sire had encouraged his magic, though he'd called it 'arcane dabbling', and had occasionally given him new materials. Soon, they would have everything that they needed to bring back the Great Lord of the Dead, and then… then the streets would run red with blood, and the humans would cower before them!

In a small pawn shop along a narrow street, the owner of the store walked through the aisles, inspecting his inventory. There were the usual records and instruments, some home appliances, and china towards the front. Further in the shop, he had a display with a gleaming silver motorcycle, and another that was a patchwork of dull browns and olive green, with helmets and sturdy jackets near the motorcycles. Across from them were a row of ordinary bicycles. Along the back wall, he had a small assortment of firearms, each one connected to the wall by a sturdy cable. There were also a few less ordinary weapons – a katana that may have been brought from Japan, what was supposed to be a Confederate Cavalry officer's saber, and a broad, short blade marked with strange letters on the blade. Beneath them sat a row of bowie knives, a collection of Swiss army knives with more things folded away than any person needed, and a machete. He had no idea that any of them could be more than a sharpened bit of metal, worth a bit of money to the right person.

Across the city, Fyarl demons that had just sprouted the horns of adulthood schemed to prove themselves as worthy males. To succeed in some feat so brave, so impressive that they would win the interest and company of the Fyarl females. To prove themselves strong and manly and get the girls. Had they understood the similarity, they might have been amused that so many human men sought the same thing. Some sought to prove themselves in combat with the nastiest, most dangerous foe they could find. One or two had other schemes, things less likely to be fatal if they didn't go just perfect…

In the ocean waters, the Maerrocholith began to migrate northwards, seeking colder waters. In cold waters, they would find challenges and different prey – not the plentiful fish that were good for nurturing their young, but challenging, screaming prey. Humans and demons that they could hunt, pulling them into the cold waters before feasting. Each feast of drowning prey a sacrifice to the Old Ones of the Deep. The swarms passed on the glorious stories of the ancient times, and the origins of their people. Their ancestors had been the favored children of the Old Ones of the Deep, and while the Old Ones of the Deep did not swim among them now, but slumbered in their ancient ruins, one day they would awaken from the Darkest Slumber. Once more would the hosts of the water swarm to the orders of Dagan, against the unholy forces of Kyuthuul and Nyarthoolp. Better still, the humans near the northern waters did not remember how to avoid them…

A human man called Fury leaned against a desk, surrounded by papers and reports. Gabe Jones had contacted him, talking about a dark woman with an accent, saving him from more of those awful people, like the ones from the jungle. Except that it hadn't been in a jungle, and the ones that had attacked – without the careful use of the jungle and stealth of their foes back then – had all the subtlety and skill of a rabid dog. They weren't just in the jungle, and they weren't just ugly memories. Perhaps someone needed to make a plan to defend against them as well? A strategic defense initiative… One that couldn't use the word 'vampire' if it was to be taken seriously.

A man who had once made a living as a surgeon had his eyes closed as he practiced his own meditation. Floating in the air above his garden, Stephen Strange sought to pick apart the tapestry of fate. Something had changed recently – twisting fate from the pattern that it had been and changing it to something else. He didn't know what, or how, or why… and he couldn't tell if this new fate would be better or worse than the path set before. But he would be remiss in his duties if he didn't try to learn what had caused the change. After all, once he knew 'what', then sorting out 'why' should be easy.

In England, a young man named Quentin packed a suitcase. One of the few friends that he'd ever known had sent him a letter, writing about a young woman with extraordinary strength. One who had spoken of being Chosen, and knew how to use a sword. He was going to go investigate the matter of this woman… and maybe it would give him a bit of space from his father. If he didn't, then things would get ugly – Wallace Travers was the most stubborn, hide-bound arrogant man that he'd ever met. While Quentin understood the importance of tradition – how could any Watcher not? – he hoped that he never became a Watcher like his father. A father who had been muttering about having ways of teaching 'impudent boys' to respect their elders…

End part 39.


	21. parts 40 and 41

Nick Fury had taken a look at the most recent census and immigration data in preparation for his search for Gabe's accented black woman. That had been all he'd needed to decide that he'd need a lot more information that 'a black woman with an accent'. The sheer numbers made the idea of checking each one somewhere between laughable and insane.

Which was why Gabe was currently talking to a trained police sketch artist. If they could create a picture of the woman, then that might help them find her. Or at least narrow their search. A woman with dark skin and an accent was terribly vague to use for any sort of search. It would help to know how old she was, or at least to narrow it down to a decade. How tall and about what sort of weight? Did she have any distinctive scars or birthmarks? What sort of accent did she have? French? Swahili? Portuguese by way of darker Brazil? Something from one of the smaller African tribes? Something from the Caribbean?

He also wanted to find an expert on vampires and get some more information. If he had his way, nobody would need to save his men from vampires ever again – they'd be able to save themselves. Even better if they could be the ones to save people in danger. How hard could it be to find…

Blast, how would he keep this from causing his rivals and enemies from throwing him to the shrinks and then out of command, out of the service, and into a special padded room with a coat that kept him hugging himself?

"Yet another headache that I didn't need." Clenching his cigar between his teeth, Nick Fury pulled out a telephone book. Maybe some of the smaller private investigators would have run into and survived similar problems. If so, if he could convince them that he wasn't trying to send them to the shrinks… it might be a place to start.

"Kendra?" Charles sounded nervous.

"Is somet'ing de matter?" Kendra asked, not pausing in her sword practice on the top of the uneven bars.

"What are you doing up there? Where did you get a sword, and why… why are you swinging a sword around…" Charles paused, and then just repeated, "What are you doing?"

"Practice. Both wit'… with the sword an' me balance. There may be times when I need to dodge demon claws in tight and tricky situations, an' it is best to have some practice before a wrong move can get you gutted an' dropped to the ground. As for the sword, I asked Mr. Kruchten to find it for me," Kendra replied. She had asked for a sword of short to medium length, strong enough to parry and equipped with both a stabbing point and a slashing edge. She wasn't certain precisely what name weapons enthusiasts or historians would give this blade, but it fit her request, and she thought it would work well for fighting.

"Is this safe?" Charles sounded doubtful.

"There is good lighting, no wind, the bars are dry and several inches wide. Nothing is trying to hit me, or cloud me senses. For me, this is as safe as a morning run to the lake an' back. I would not suggest it for any of the students," Kendra conceded.

"But why are you practicing with a sword up there? Isn't practice on the ground enough?" Charles fretted.

"Many Slayers have dreams that carry warnings of the future. I keep having dreams wit' swords. If it is a warning that I will need to fight wit' a sword against a foe in de… the future, I want to be ready. If it is not a warning, it is still good exercise an' practice," Kendra explained.

"Have you received any other warnings?" Charles sounded like he was frowning.

"The only one that I am certain of is that there was a vampire attempting to raise what he called de… the Great Lord o' the Dead. Capitalized – you learn to hear those after long enough. It is never a good thing if blood rituals are used, less so to bring something back. The rituals may be stopped, but it would be foolish to stop worrying. That mage, the one who called himself Doctor Strange, he seemed worried about that ritual. If a powerful mage is worried – an' he is powerful, then there is good cause for us to worry. An' it troubles me greatly that I do not have the right contacts to know where the most likely trouble spots are, or to gain better warning before there are big problems," Kendra shook her head. In moments like this, she truly missed Mr. Zabuto, even if he had disapproved of the mere idea of her talking with the uninformed. His reaction to her staying at a school… He would not have been calm or pleased.

"Kendra? What were you thinking of just now? I called your name several times… I considered touching your mind, but I wouldn't want you make you fall," Charles fretted.

With a sigh, Kendra flipped down from the bar, landing in a light crouch. "My apologies. I was thinking about how much things have changed for me, how me… my Watcher would react to me being here. As useful as having a Watcher could be, he would not be a help in this place."

"Enhanced strength and reflexes… could you at least look like that was difficult for you?" Charles grumbled, perhaps not intending for Kendra to hear his words.

Kendra considered him, with his formidable mind and his much more normal body. The body of a man who studied books and people, not the body of a warrior. "I thought you wanted this to be a place where mutants and humans could exist together in peace? Where the mutants did not have to be afraid of what they could do?"

"Of course that's what I want," Charles blinked at her. "Why would you question that?"

"Where they do not need to be afraid of what they can do, even if it is something that you can not do. That the other students can not do. There will likely be others who will be stronger than you, faster than you. Who will be more agile, more flexible. Perhaps someone with more limbs than you or I have. They should not feel afraid to be themselves, to move in a way that is natural to them simply because you can not move the same way. Everyone will need to make adjustments," Kendra pointed out. "Just as you keep thinking at people, instead of using words as most people must do. It would be a poor t'ing to say that you could use your abilities an' others may not."

For a moment, Charles just frowned before he sighed, "Very true. I'm not used to thinking that I might need to make adjustments in my actions or mannerisms."

"And I may need reminded on occasion that others can not do what I can," Kendra smiled. "We are in this together. We shall help each other."

"Yes, together," Charles smiled.

End part 40.

"Miss Kendra?" Jean's voice at the doorway was soft, uncertain. "Am I interrupting?"

Kendra smiled, thinking that it seemed her sword practice would not happen in peace today. First Charles when she was focusing on her balance, and now Jean when she was on the floor trying a few more complicated moves. "It is nothing that can not wait a little while. Did you have questions?"

"Some," Jean admitted, eying the sword as she edged into the room. "Is that… is that because of vampires?"

"When I fight the monsters, I sometimes use a sword," Kendra agreed. "They are very well suited to killing dangerous things. But to use a weapon, one should be careful to be skilled, that you will not hurt yourself or those that you do not mean to harm."

"Are you going to be teaching the rest of us to use swords?" Jean bit at her lip, her eyes flickering to the sword even as she paled a bit.

"I may teach some, if they wish to learn. I will not force any of you to go against the monsters wit' me," Kendra smiled at the redhead. "Even for those who do not wish to fight, knowing how to use a sword is good exercise, an' will help your balance. Will help you learn to pay attention. But it is dangerous enough that I would only teach a few at a time."

"Seems like a bit much for some balance," Jean shook her head. "When my parents wanted me to learn balance and grace, they sent me to ballet lessons."

"If your only goal is added balance an' grace, perhaps skill at dancing, then ballet be just fine. But I must be able to kill dangers, an' for dat I need a weapon. But you did not come here to ask about swords," Kendra prompted.

"No," Jean admitted. "I think… there's something bothering Misty. I don't know what it is, and she's harder to read than most people…"

"One of de t'ings you will need to learn is to not look too deeply into other minds. People like to keep some t'ings secret," Kendra warned.

"I know, and I'm trying. But sometimes people think things so loudly that I can't help hearing them, or there's an image… Some people's minds are quieter, maybe more organized? Not everyone's as noisy. You're one of the quieter ones, and so's Misty. Once in a while… there's this awful feeling, like she's so afraid, and alone, and… I don't know how to help her," Jean shook her head and looked at Kendra, "Can you help her?"

Kendra considered Jean's words, considered what she knew of Misty. The blue girl hadn't spoken much of her past, only bits and fragments, but those were enough to suggest problems. In addition, Kendra knew that the girl had problems and concerns that she hadn't spoken about. "I do not know if she will speak to me about her problems. I do not know if I could help her if she did tell me of them. But I will help her as much as I can, as much as she will let me, for the time that I have."

Jean smiled, and left the room with a relieved, "Thanks, Miss Kendra."

Kendra just hoped that whatever troubled Misty was something that she could help the girl with.

After a quick check on the various students, Kendra tapped on the door of what had become the medical office. It had been a smaller kitchen near the back of the house, but Dorothy Weaver had taken it over. The only thing remaining was the grey stone floor. It had been changed to have several small exam rooms, a half bathroom, an area for Dorothy to store the medical records, a separate area for her medical supplies , and a slightly larger room that could be used for first aid. So far, it had been used for skinned knees, a black eye Brandon had picked up while helping with the remodeling, and Kendra after patrols. Mostly for Kendra, after her patrols.

"Please tell me that you haven't managed to injure yourself this early," Dorothy Weaver's voice came from the medicine room.

"I have not even left yet, Nurse Weaver," Kendra smiled. "Injuries will come later, or perhaps not at all. I hope for the second."

"So do I, and how many times do I need to say that you can call me Dorothy? Much as I like you, and as welcome as you are here at any time, I'd rather you weren't bleeding when you drop by," Dorothy smiled. "But I just finished putting away the new bandages and thread for stitches, just in case."

"I thought I might give you a... heads up?" Kendra frowned, hoping that she'd remembered the right phrase. "Scott Summers seems to be rubbing at his eyes often. I do not know if he is having headaches, or if he might need glasses – he insists that not'ing is wrong. Andrew and Joshua Beaumond keep running into walls trying to keep up with Dash, you may be seeing them for such things. An' Jean is convinced somet'ing is wrong with Misty. I do not know what, but I can see that there is somet'ing bothering the girl."

"Part of those could be teenagers being teenagers," the nurse offered.

"Maybe so, an' it might be less trouble if that is all that troubles them. But if there is more…" Kendra shrugged. "Better a little more caution than not enough. You might be able to tell if they are being moody teenagers better than I."

"I suppose so, considering…" the nurse trailed off, by now aware that Kendra didn't like discussing her past and Dorothy Weaver's opinion that it had been horrible. "You are right, there are quite a few reasons other than simply being moody teenagers that could explain things. Let's hope for something harmless, or at least simple. Noticing boys or girls, needing glasses, worrying about not fitting in. Harmless things. Not… not something worse."

Kendra nodded, aware from the greater willingness of the media to discuss ugly news that there were some truly awful things that humans could and did do to each other, or to children. Sometimes even their own children. If anything, being a mutant might make such ugliness more likely. She hoped that it was nothing more than teenage moods and frustrating new desires. "Another set of eyes on the students can only help, no matter what the cause."

"True. Please, be careful on your patrol."

"Of course, Dorothy," Kendra smiled.

Feeling better, Kendra left for her patrol. Tonight… she hoped that she was only uneasy because of moody teenagers and strange dreams with a man carrying cheese. Or old uncertainties troubling her. Anything but a Slayer warning of impending doom. But considering that she was a Slayer, considering her past, it would be safer to be ready for impending doom. It wasn't just nurses that were wise to be prepared for the worst.

End part 41.


	22. parts 42 and 43

The first vampire that Kendra fought had been meandering though a park, his posture and clothing suggesting poor, unfortunate and mostly harmless, just out on his luck. The appearance would be an effective way to lure in the careless and soft-hearted, both of which could be easy prey.

Kendra found herself quite pleased that she didn't have a Watcher to report this fight to afterwards. The only good version would be 'I fought the vampire, and eventually defeated him. I was able to pull my stake from the body before it became ashes.' This would give a completely different impression than the truth – she had approached the figure that felt like a vampire, still cautious. While she didn't believe Charles' guess or perhaps hope that not all vampires were the innately evil fiends that Mr. Zabuto had called them, she didn't want to make too many assumptions about this other world. So far, the vampires had been most obliging about attacking first, with the exception of the child-vampire that had run away, expressing a reluctance to be staked.

This one had tried to hit her in the head, a move that would be fast enough and disorienting enough to leave a human helpless but alive. Being a Slayer, she had dodged.

The vampire had growled, "You aren't supposed to dodge, you bitch! Stand still and take it like you deserve!"

Kendra would be most reluctant to confess to anyone that she'd had a very emotional reaction to the vampire's words. She'd become very angry, and rather than seeking to quickly stake the vampire and continue her patrol, she'd beaten him down like a dirty rug, feeling the bones in his arms snap, as well as the crunch of his ribs. As she'd lunged with the stake, she'd growled her own words – "I am not a bitch."

She wouldn't want to admit to the way that she'd kicked the ashes from the neat little heap into a scattered mess to anyone either.

"A Slayer is not supposed to give in to her emotions. A Slayer is supposed to control and contain her emotions at all times," Kendra repeated the words of Mr. Zabuto as she walked away from the scattered ashes. Anger like that could easily make her reckless, blind to other threats.

Another vampire lurked among the trees. This one jumped at her, a wordless growl emerging from its lips. Rather than a carefully created and maintained look of harmless poverty, this one wore filthy, tattered rags, with long nails encrusted with dirt and blood, both of which also streaked over the body of the vampire. She couldn't tell if it was male or female, only that it had pale skin beneath the dirt, a shaggy mop of shoulder length dark hair, jagged teeth, and mad, feral yellow eyes, and looked to about her own height and maybe a little broader through the shoulders.

Kendra killed it with much less anger, though the feral vampire had a keen ability to dodge. She thought that she'd sensed another vampire watching that fight, but if there had been another, they did not attack, did not taunt or make mocking statements about how they would soon accomplish their grand and terrible plan and she would be helpless to stop them. If there had been another, they retreated while she was busy.

How sensible of them. Sensible vampires could be quite dangerous – their plans had a much higher chance of success.

She'd much rather it had been another feral vampire that had retreated while something dangerous killed its rival. Feral vampires were simple to deal with – not always easy, but simple. They also weren't much known for talking. Or planning.

As she was leaving the park, she spotted a suspicious man walking along the street. She followed, hoping to figure out if the man was a danger – vampire, demon or blood-mage – or just a hunched figure in a baggy coat. Perhaps a human criminal.

She lost track of the coat-wearing figure when he crossed a busy street and vanished into a crowd. Resisting the urge to mutter curses, Kendra kept moving. There would be other figures, and certainly other monsters. She felt far too restless to go back to the school yet.

There was another vampire, this one feeding from one of the street-folk in an alley. A quick stab with her stake and the vampire fell to dust. Kendra bandaged the man's shoulder as best she could, and hoped that the scent of blood wouldn't attract any more predators. Though she wasn't certain if the homeless man would notice, or care if he did.

With a swift hope that the man would be safe, and the hope that he wouldn't be suffering from her actions, Kendra kept moving. Her steps found a cemetery, one with a tall fence and substantial looking gates, currently ajar with a chain and lock tangled in one half of the gate.

Her instincts were telling her that there was something wrong inside the cemetery.

Kendra slipped between the gates, not wanting to bump the metal and possibly cause the chain to rattle and announce her. If there were problems inside, then it would be best if they didn't know she was there until she could act.

Towards the back a pair of vampires were chanting over a grave, with something burning between them, and a circle marked in blood. It had an unremarkable headstone, though the vampires blocked her view of the name or dates. She identified the chanting as not Latin, though there seemed to be a few familiar sounds to the words. With no further hesitation, Kendra attacked.

The first vampire fell quickly, though the second fought viciously. She could feel blood trickling down her temple and her eyes stung by the time he was also ash. The headstone was revealed to belong to Edmund Drake, beloved husband and father. The dates revealed that he'd been fifty four when he'd died, and it took Kendra a few moments to remember that with the change in time from the portal, the man had only been dead about fifteen years.

The whole thing said 'disrupted ritual', and it made her wish that she could contact that sorcerer to ask what she'd stumbled upon. The circle of blood couldn't be a good sign.

"I t'ink it is time to go home," Kendra sighed. Dorothy would not be pleased, despite the injuries being fairly minor.

End part 42.

When Kendra made her way to collect food during what most of the students were considering 'lunch', she discovered that Mr. Kruchten had taken the day off for 'an unexpected matter' and simply posted assignments on the door. There were quite a few rumors about what this matter might be, and if it involved his family, or a girlfriend, or another job offer away from them.

Misty had walked towards her, a small frown on her face as she toyed with an apple.

"Is somet'ing troubling you, Misty?" Kendra asked.

Misty nodded, and then with a glance towards the others, she asked, "Can we talk about it elsewhere?"

"Of course," Kendra nodded, and motioned for Misty to follow her.

Once they were in a small sitting room near the library, Kendra settle onto one of the spindly, not quite comfortable chairs and asked, "What is wrong?"

For a few moments, Misty was silent, looking as if she was searching for the words. Then she admitted, "I've been having weird dreams. They feel like memories, except… the me in these maybe dreams is older. All grown up. She can shift in ways… not just deliberately into someone, but in ways that… Amazing and almost terrifying ways."

"None of the shape-changers that I've encountered before were quite like you," Kendra began. "Some of them could change their apparent ages, but that did not affect their memories, or their control."

"What would it take to alter someone's memories or control?" Misty's voice was barely a whisper.

"Perhaps a strong telepath could do so. I know that there are magical spells and rituals that can do the same, though I can not use them meself. I have also heard that sometimes an injury to the head can make a person forget things," Kendra sighed. "There is a minor ritual that I can do that was used to get an idea of an age for a vampire or demon. Many kinds become more dangerous with age. I do not know if this would work on a mutant."

"What does this ritual take?" Misty's hands were shaking.

"Most of de… the time, a bit of hair or skin, sometimes blood. A bit of sea salt, some chanting an' a candle. It is very simple, and very weak," Kendra offered. "It is not precise, but it gives a little information."

"Where would we get sea salt?" Misty frowned.

Kendra grinned, "Many rituals require sea salt, and there are some sorts of demons that are vulnerable to it. I gathered some sea water, and have let the water evaporate away. This gives me some sea salt."

"I can meet you with a candle… does this need to be anywhere specific?" Misty asked.

"Somewhere that we will not be interrupted," Kendra shrugged. "It is not very complicated."

Five minutes later and they were kneeling on the floor of the little sitting room. Kendra had a small plate with a pinch of her evaporated sea salt, and the candle. Misty plucked a couple hairs and handed them over, whispering, "What will this look like?"

"I will chant a few t'ings, let de hairs catch fire and drop them onto the salt. Then it will form wisps of smoke that will get darker the older you are," Kendra shrugged. "If you are only as old as you look, there are a few other options that might explain your dreams."

Kendra's words were a simple request for the spirits beyond to share a sliver of their wisdom and reveal the age of this individual. At that point, she lit the hairs on fire and dropped them onto the salt. Wisps of smoke rose, becoming a dark grey.

"That looks dark…" Misty frowned. "So… I'm a lot older than twelve?"

"Much older than twelve," Kendra agreed. That was darker than the smoke had turned for a four hundred year old sea demon. "We will need to figure out why you do not remember… why you do remember some of the t'ings you do, when they do not match what this suggests."

"If I'm much older than twelve, then my mom can't be my mom. She's only thirty two. And I have memories that back up the idea that I'm twelve… so we need to sort those out." Misty sighed, "I'm afraid that I won't like what's under those memories."

"Truth can be ugly at times," Kendra put one hand on Misty's shoulder. "From what I have seen, you have been a good girl. I am here for you, for as long as I can be. Your memories, whatever they are, will not change that."

"Thanks, Miss Kendra." The blue girl smiled.

Kendra pinched out the candlewick, and sighed, wondering just how many strange things would pile on top of each other. Wondering if having a Watcher would make this simpler. If it was strangeness after puzzle that killed Slayers as much as the claws and fangs of demons. There were her strange dreams involving sea salt, Fyarl horns, and a sword – she was certain that they meant something, but she didn't know what that might be. She was still troubled by the child-vampire that Charles and Erik had insisted she let go. Whatever ritual those vampires had been up to with their Great Lord of the Dead, a ritual that might or might not have had a connection to the Drake grave last night. The magic user Doctor Strange. Her displacement to this other world and earlier time. Now Misty was experiencing dreams that might be memories that suggested unusual events that might mean her entire presumed life was a lie, and her tiny spell suggested that Misty was closer to five hundred than twelve. And she was still struggling with these feelings for Charles, who was seeing Victoria Grey.

"Miss Kendra?" Misty looked at her. "Is something… something else wrong?"

"Your situation is clearly complicated. I do not have all the answers, I do not even know for certain where to look. I have some ideas that might help. I know that we want to be careful, because any time you mess with the mind or memories it is very easy to make things worse, an' I do not want to make your life worse." Kendra paused, sorting through words and fragments.

"Does that mean you don't want to try to fix this?" Misty whispered.

"I want to help you find answers. But I do not want to make things worse by making a mistake or by rushing, even if it is rushing in the correct direction. I think we should be very careful wit' this, an' I only say that because I do not want to do things that might further complicate, or damage your memories," Kendra tried to explain.

Misty sat quietly for a few moments, frowning and biting at her lip. Her shoulders finally slumped, and she nodded, "I suppose meddling with minds and memories could go wrong in all kinds of bad ways. Especially if you rush in, and I don't want people rushing into my head. I don't like having to go slowly to get this fixed, but I can understand why you're saying we need to."

"Life often has t'ings we do not like. Sometimes they are t'ings we can change, an' other times they are t'ings we much accept or work around. Some t'ings… things we can overcome. There is another small spell I know that can tell me if you are under the influence of any spell or potion. I can't break that influence if you are, but it would help us know how to proceed." Kendra shook her head muttering, "Me life has been full of t'ings I did not like, an' there are still many t'ings I do not like."

"How much magic can you do, Miss Kendra?" Misty asked.

"De spell we just used to test your age. One to test for effects of spells or potions, though it will not tell me what de effect is. One to break a weak illusion. A five minute ritual to rescind a vampire's invitation to a building. A half hour ritual to banish a ghost or spirit. A fifteen minute ritual that will destroy some enchanted objects. That is it," Kendra paused. "Most Slayers have Watchers who know a little more magic than that. Most often, de magic used is the proper application of a weapon and de knowledge of where to apply it."

"You think I won't like all of the truth, once we find it," Misty didn't so much ask a question as make a statement.

"For some reason, it was decided to turn a grown person into a young girl. I do not know if this was something the you of before planned, or if this was done to you. But something unpleasant must have happened to cause this," Kendra's voice was calm, just a little flat as she fought to keep the anger contained. Someone was playing with Misty's life, making choices and leaving her alone and vulnerable. Even if the reason was to give Misty a second or better chance, what disaster in the life of Misty from Before could have prompted such a decision?

"It is pretty drastic, isn't it?" Misty agreed.

"Very much, especially since arrangements must have been made to your… to the woman you remember as your mother to make this possible, perhaps even to the whole town where you were a child."

Misty winced, "How many people got mind-woogied to accomplish this?"

"I do not know a number, but I know it was too many," Kendra sighed, feeling frustrated and wanting to do something with that anger. Like hit a vampire. Or whoever had started playing with people's memories.

"And depending on who, and if they're watching, they might do it again to keep things like they had them," Misty finished.

Kendra nodded.

"I know I said I understand why I need to be patient, but this bites," Misty scowled.

Kendra chuckled at that, unable to disagree.

End part 43.


	23. parts 44 and 45

Unfortunately, Kendra didn't have all the materials that she would need to check if Misty was under the influence of a spell or potion. The small ritual wasn't very complicated, but it did require a few things – and she had no fresh coconut, or the acceptable substitute of hazelnuts. She could borrow a bit of rum from Charles, though the idea of explaining why she would need rum and a twelve year old student did not appeal. Even claiming that magic was involved wouldn't make that sound any better.

She'd probably have better luck finding hazelnuts in New York than fresh coconuts anyhow.

It was a frustration that she'd have to sort out eventually. There were more immediate concerns for her, as always. Vampires to slay, probably demons to fight. Classes for students, helping them develop good fitness, and trying to help them learn enough to not get killed when things got ugly – as they would, some day, some how. Perhaps not often for all of them, but it only took once to be fatal, if you weren't ready. Kendra didn't want any of her students to die because of what she hadn't taught them.

She was also still trying to sort out the possible meanings of her dreams. Sea salt, Fyarl horns and swords. Tallow candles and Maerrocholith scales. Smoke and blood and chanting. A green man clad in leaves, speaking about the Worthy. A tall man with a plate of cheese. Flashes of lightning illuminating a dark alley. Zombie soldiers searching the streets. A werewolf in a library, or perhaps running the library – she was a little unclear about that bit.

"A journal for me dreams can only help so much," Kendra sighed. Some of the images kept appearing, night after night. Those were probably important, but she didn't know how – were the green man and the cheese man dangers, messengers, or possible allies? Fyarl horns, swords and sea salt could mean that she'd be fighting a Fyarl demon by the sea, armed with a sword. It could just as easily refer to some magical ritual.

The whole thing was almost enough to make her wish for a Watcher again. Definitely enough to make her want one, to see the advantages in having such a trained person. But the word 'wish' had caused a great deal of trouble to Buffy and her friends, and Kendra wasn't desperate enough to take those risks.

At least she finally got to practice her sword work. Even better, Brandon had asked if she would teach him. Kendra had agreed readily, knowing that as useful as seeing auras could be for the young man, it wouldn't prevent him from being attacked, and it wouldn't keep him safe in a fight. Seeing auras gave information, it was up to him to use that information, or get it to someone else. Misty had also expressed a bit of interest, and while neither of them knew what skills might be lurking in Misty's hidden past and suppressed memories, it might be a good idea for her to learn the skill, or refresh it, whichever the case.

The next day started late for Kendra, with her now-usual scrawling of her dreams into the journal beside her bed. While she was fairly certain the one with a shadowy figure laughing over a helpless blue girl was born of her worries for Misty, she wrote it down anyway. She had no explanation for the one with the singing banana, or the one where she turned to lecture her students about the importance of stretches to find that everyone – including herself – were naked. There had been another image of the thin man with the platter of cheese, and a beam of light focused on a sword. The same sword that she'd seen in other dreams.

When she made her way to one of the kitchens to gather something to eat, Kendra blinked in surprise. Richard Krutchten was already there, talking to a rumpled, tired looking man in a long sleeved shirt and tan trousers, both of them with cups of tea sitting before them.

"A friend of yours?" Kendra asked, one hand gesturing at the stranger as she collected some fruit from a basket on the counter.

"Yes, this is Quentin. He… I had to pick him up from the airport, and it's been a very long couple of days for him," Richard explained.

"And who might you be?" Quentin's voice held a very clear British accent, as well as exhaustion, frustration, and a bit of curiosity.

"I am Kendra," she collected a teacup of her own, and settled at the table.

"No last name? I am Quentin Travers," he prompted.

Kendra shook her head, "No last name. I've never needed one, and…" she faltered for a moment, thinking of her past and how it infuriated Dorothy. "Nobody has ever used a family name for me that I know of."

"That sounds… The only way…" Quentin blinked, and rubbed at his eyes.

"A Slayer does not need a last name, and a family will only be an unnecessary distraction. That is what de Watcher who raised me always said," Kendra replied.

"But the Slayer is supposed to be in Prague," Quentin murmured.

"It is very confusing and complicated," Kendra agreed. "Perhaps you would prefer a few demonstrations after we've had our tea?"

"That sounds good," Quentin agreed.

"She's certainly not an ordinary young woman," Richard smiled, sipping at his own cup of tea.

"There can be a world of difference between ordinary and a Potential Slayer, let alone an Active Slayer," Quentin's words had audible capitalization, and a larger amount of frustration.

End part 44.

As they made their way to the gymnasium, Kendra listened to the soft voiced conversation that Quentin and Richard were having behind her. She suspected they underestimated her hearing, and didn't realize that she could hear them.

"I know you said this was a school for mutants, for people with strange and unusual abilities," Quentin began.

"Yes," Richard sighed, "What twisted and paranoid thoughts are going through your mind now?"

"How do you know they aren't demons playing at being human? How do we know that they aren't empowered by magic rituals or talismans? Even if they are genuinely given abilities by the universe playing dice with their genetics, how do we know that this woman is a Slayer instead of a mutant?" Quentin paused before muttering even softer, "I still think that word sounds strange and more than a bit insulting."

"Maybe we'll have to ask if she'd be willing to let us follow her on a patrol some night," Richard suggested.

"She's patrolling? Without a Watcher?" Quentin's voice was a bit louder, and then he hissed, "Doesn't she know how dangerous that can be? Patrolling in an unfamiliar territory… without sufficient knowledge of the local threats and expected dangers… the risks…"

"Kendra said she was aware of the risks, but didn't feel right about just not doing anything while people were eaten by monsters," Richard countered.

Interrupting their no longer hushed exchange, Kendra gestured, "We have reached the gymnasium."

Once inside, Kendra was pleased to see the gymnasium empty, though sounds carrying through the windows suggested the same could not be said of the basketball court outside. She started with the boring things, a few demonstrations of her superior strength, a basic sword pattern, and returned the practice blade to the rack, absently catching the object hurled at her back. Looking at it, she frowned, "You t'rew a butter-knife at me? Dis does not even have a sharp edge."

Quentin fidgeted, studying his toes a moment before muttering, "I didn't see the sharp knives in the kitchen, and I couldn't manage to take them on my carry-on. They should be arriving next week."

"De sharp knives are kept where small children can not easily get them. This is supposed to keep them from injuring themselves," Kendra looked at Quentin, "I confess to never worrying about how Watchers transport weapons and books across oceans."

"All to be expected for a secret organization," Quentin chuckled.

"She had me try something similar with one of my knives, shortly after we met," Richard offered.

"Is there anything else you would care to see now, or would you rather join me on patrol tonight?" Kendra couldn't quite keep herself from grinning when Richard twitched and Quentin jumped, his eyes going wide. "I am not opposed to people who know how to defend themselves accompanying me."

After a few moments, Quentin managed, "Yes, joining you on patrol would be splendid. Perhaps you could explain how you found yourself here, when I have been told that the current Slayer is in Prague, and her description is quite far from your own?"

Kendra nodded, and they left the gymnasium, ending up in one of the many little sitting rooms scattered through the mansion. Kendra still didn't know why there were so many. "I do not know how Potential Slayers are identified, but my parents were approached by a Watcher when I was no more than six months old. I have been told dey were honored by me potential, and chose to give me to me Watcher. One May, I awoke from a strange dream, feeling very energized, very strong. I had become a Slayer."

"There aren't that many places left where families are willing to give up their daughter to the watchers," Quentin mused.

"I grew up in Jamaica," Kendra paused. "This is where my story gets stranger. I was born in nineteen eighty, an' became a Slayer in nineteen ninety nine. In the fall of dat year, the imprisoned Acathala was found, an' someone attempted to use de demon to suck de world into hell. I fought de one who opened de portal, an'… I was caught in de portal as it closed. Only..."

Kendra took a deep breath before continuing, "Only I was not in de place where I had been fighting. I found meself here, in New York. Not only dat, but de year is different. I have not been born yet. Me Watcher might not have been born yet. All I can guess is dat de portal bent time an' space… but so many t'ings seem different. I can not be sure if dis is de same world, back almost half a century, or a different world dat is very similar."

"But…" Quentin blinked. "A Watcher…"

"De only names I know were active Watchers four or five decades from now. I have no names dat were in New England, no names for the Council headquarters in London at dis time. No books to research, and I do not know enough about magic to even know where to begin. An' if I could find a Watcher, dey might t'ink me a demon or vampire out to trick dem, an' not a Slayer flung t'rough time, space an' maybe even dimension.' Kendra took a deep breath, disappointed at the way her accent had thickened again. "Dere are days when I find me story hard to believe, an' I am de one living it!"

"It does sound quite…" Richard paused, his mouth starting to form a word before he stopped. His lips moved, before stopping again. He continued, almost voiing and then discarding several words before giving them voice. "quite unusual."

"There are some things that I know which will confirm the Potential, once I get my things delivered. But I suppose a simple patrol tonight would also prove if you are a Slayer, and much sooner. Though sorting out the rest…" Quentin shook his head. "I'm not sure about some of that. Let me think on it."

Kendra nodded, hoping she hadn't just made a huge mistake in sharing her story with them. "De Slayer before me, she drowned. One of her friends gave her CPR, an' managed to revive her. She was still active an' in California when I… before I found meself here. Dat is why I am insisting on de students here learning first aid, an' why I am so willing not to patrol alone."

"CPR bringing a Slayer back? Activating another Slayer… that's…" Quentin blinked, rubbing his temple, "The implications are staggering."

Kendra only nodded, having boggled more than a little over Buffy's drowning, especially since the blonde had described it as 'only a little'. About being a Slayer while her predecessor was still alive. And having wondered if that might mean there hadn't been only one, might not have been only one for some time. When had CPR been invented, discovered… developed? What about hospitals reviving injured patients?

She could also understand wanting to take a while to tackle such substantial problems as how to test for alternate dimensions.

End part 45.


	24. parts 46 to 48

The rest of the afternoon passed without anything remarkable. One of the Beaumont boys ran into a wall and gave himself a knot on his head. A basketball had managed to stick between the hoop and the backboard, remaining stubbornly out of reach of the students. Kendra wondered if anyone had thought to ask if Jean could remove it, or if Jean had tried and found the ball too firmly wedged for her current ability to displace. Charles and Erik had been tinkering in the basement and managed to short out the power for the entire mansion for about half an hour, later refusing to give any details beyond having made a miscalculation.

Close enough to nothing out of the ordinary for the way this school, which hadn't yet finalized a name, was shaping up to be. Just enough that the day didn't drag in boredom.

What Kendra was really waiting for was patrol. She would be hunting for vampires and demons, accompanied by Mr. Kruchten and his friend Quentin Travers, Watcher. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Kendra, enough that she assumed that she'd heard of a Watcher named Travers somewhere along the line before the portal. Not familiar enough for her to be sure if the Travers she'd heard mention of was a then-current Watcher, or a historical personage, or if the name had been Quentin or someone else entirely. Considering that this was a different world, she wasn't sure it made a difference.

As the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, resembling a luridly colored broken egg yolk, Kendra met with the others by the garage. A brief discussion resulted in the decision that Mr. Kruchten would drive, as Kendra was unused to it and Quentin feared he'd wind up on the wrong side of the road from habit. It made little difference to Kendra. All three of them were well armed, and Kendra knew that both men had several stakes as well as a few knives, and Quentin had a crossbow poorly concealed under his coat.

During the drive, Kendra spoke to them. "I have slain a number of vampires here, and dey show some differences from the vampires I am familiar with from me home. Different color of eyes, a slight difference in how dey fall to ashes, de teeth a little different. I am still trying to sort out if all the vampires here are different or if they are simply another bloodline."

"Yes, there is that Greek line that tends towards horns and hooves… a possible source of the Minotaur legend. Some of the eastern bloodlines are also quite strange," Quentin shuddered.

"I was never in dis area in me home world, I can only guess," Kendra mused. She was trying to reduce her accent, but it was more difficult than she'd expected. If she thought carefully about what she was saying and didn't get distracted or emotional, she could manage for a few things, though not enough to eliminate her accent entirely. But as soon as she got distracted, or emotional, it was back to full strength.

"Kendra? What are you expecting tonight?" Mr. Kruchten asked.

"A few vampires. Perhaps a ghoul, there seem to be some lurking in de… the sewer system and connected tunnels. A map of those would be useful, but is unlikely. I fought an ogre a little bit ago, I do not know if dere… there might be more." Kendra paused, and then sighed, "Twice I have found vampires attempting some sort of ritual in graveyards. I do not know if de two attempts were connected, but it makes me suspicious."

"Quite alarming," Quentin agreed. "We shall have to be vigilant both for rituals and ogres."

"How close to the old legends are these ogres?" asked Mr. Kruchten.

"Ogres are generally very big, from eight feet on taller. Some much taller. Most retain a similar shape, but more muscles, bigger teeth, perhaps claws. They might hunch over, or have dere… their proportions change," Kendra spoke carefully, trying to remember the information and fight back her accent.

"I believe the tallest on record among the Watchers Journals was just over fifteen feet," Quentin spoke, his hands curling on his lap.

"So the ogres are probably a lot more noticeable than magic rituals then," Mr. Kruchten commented.

"Not if the ritual goes horribly wrong," Quentin gave a shudder as he spoke. "Those can be… nightmares beyond words."

"Do I want you to try?" Mr. Kruchten asked.

"Have you ever read some of the books written by an American named H.P. Lovecraft? There's a Watcher's Journal that said he was almost sacrificed in a nasty ritual when he was a child. Poor boy was never the same. Some of the things he saw… They show up in his work." Quentin slowly uncurled his fists. "As I said, nasty, nasty stuff. Magic can be a very powerful tool, much like high explosives."

Kendra decided right then that it was very important to prevent the vampires from completing their attempted resurrection rituals. However many rituals it took, however many times they needed thwarted. Magic didn't have to go horribly wrong to do horrible things, after all.

Sometimes it depended on what it was supposed to do in the first place.

End part 46.

It didn't take long before they reached part of the city. Kendra wasn't really familiar with the area, but she hadn't become really familiar with much of the city at all. Granted, a bit of road work closing one section of road had caused a detour that took them into town at a different point, but… Yes, that was one of the noisy bars that she wound up passing regularly, where she'd staked a vampire into a truck. And a few blocks further back and to the left would be a small library that stayed open until ten at night, well past dark. Down the road, turn right, and a few more blocks and there was a dingy pawn shop that had graffiti reminding her of a few demon languages scrawled on the walls.

"There is a library a little further down and to the left. Perhaps that would be a good place to park?" Kendra suggested.

"Is the library any good?" Quentin asked.

"mmmm," Kendra hesitated. "It is much larger than any I encountered in Jamaica, but I have little experience with American libraries. All I can be sure of is that it is unlikely to have many factual books on demons, enchanted artifacts, and prophecies."

"I'll just have to come back and take a look myself," Quentin mused. "During the daytime, of course."

"Where do we start looking for vampires? How do you even start looking for vampires?" asked Mr. Kruchten.

Kendra closed her eyes, trying to feel for any vampires in the area. Sometimes she could get an idea, other times it took walking around and waiting to have the vampires find her.

"Perhaps we should start near the bar? Vampires often lurk near such places hoping to prey on intoxicated individuals," Quentin offered.

"Yes, drunks make easy prey," Kendra murmured.

"So, many vampires like the easiest way possible?" Mr. Kruchten looked from Kendra to Quentin.

"Oh yes, most vampires take the easiest path. Even those who are minions to more cunning fiends… often other vampires, sometimes demons. Most take the easiest way to everything. They find unwary or weakened prey, like drunks, the homeless, or wandering foolish teenagers. They go to the closest place to find prey, or specific items, and tend to break in and steal clothing or weapons. Most vampires are rather stupid," Quentin sighed. "I suppose most humans are rather foolish as well, so that makes sense. In addition, the fact that vampires are stronger and faster than humans, that they will never get sick or old and no poisons seem to affect them… they get over confident."

"I've seen movies, but you never really gave me a straight answer, Quentin. Wood through the heart, beheading, fire and sunlight… what else will kill a vampire?" Mr. Kruchten made the question sound more like a demand.

"Blessed water works much like acid on them, enough of it will kill them, but that almost takes a full immersion, unless you use precision targeting. Basic dismemberment will work, though you must either destroy the heart or the spine above the heart for it to be immediately fatal. A still present mangled torso would be unable to escape the sunrise. Apparently a lightning strike is also fatal to vampires, but we can hardly just call lightning from the sky at will, can we?" Quentin chuckled.

"Charles and Erik are starting a school for people with special abilities. Perhaps someone will be able to do just that," Kendra suggested.

For several moments, Quentin only gaped. After several highly amusing false starts where his mouth moved without sound, he managed a faint "I suppose someone just might be able to do that."

"It should help you regain your composure when I confess to being entirely incapable of such a feat," Mr. Kruchten smiled.

"Rather," Quentin managed a smile. "Shall we park the vehicle and begin our search for danger?"

With that, a parking place outside the darkened library was found. Stepping out of the car, they made sure their assorted weapons were in place, easily accessible, and hopefully not to obvious.

Kendra looked at them, Quentin who looked perhaps a decade older than herself, and short old Mr. Kruchten who looked more than old enough to be Quentin's father. "I am curious how the two of you met, how you became friends."

"He was one of the more recent faculty additions when I attended college. He taught medieval history, this particular class on early Germanic nations, and another on… what was it, dark ages France? King Charlemagne and his empire, wasn't it? He wound up my faculty advisor while I attended college. Watchers have a tradition of college degrees, have for the last few centuries, but I didn't go to one of the normal choices," Quentin confessed. "There was this fellow at the college my father recommended that… he gave me a rather dreadful feeling and I had no desire to be anywhere near him, so I attended a different university entirely."

"Quentin was far more levelheaded than most students, and became a friend in addition to a student," Mr. Kruchten added.

"I must say, the last decade doesn't seem to have changed you at all," Quentin added.

Mr. Kruchten shrugged, "I hold my age well. So did my father, though I tend to dismiss his claims of how old he was before his death as exaggerating. Then again, if these mutations are genetic, and it's something I got from him, it could be possible… Young Charles does insist that I'm a mutant."

"He told me that he used to be a private tutor before changing social trends pushed him for joining the academic circles and becoming part of a university," Quentin added, his thumb pointed at Mr. Kruchten. "Though he wouldn't tell me just when he'd started teaching at universities instead of privately among families."

"My last employer for private tutoring was a very busy politician named George, and some of the political mess that he had to deal with quite soured me on a few things. I felt that universities would give me a greater distance and therefore greater peace of mind over the whole thing," the words were delivered with a shrug, as if to dismiss the matter entirely.

"A British politician?" Quentin asked, one brow raised.

"British with perhaps a bit of Scottish to him. Aberdeen, like his father before him." Mr. Kruchten glanced around, and then looked at Kendra. "Lead on, Miss Kendra."

They meandered for a while before encountering a pair of vampires lurking in an alley. The vampires thought that two young humans and a little old man would be easy prey. While Kendra wasn't quite sure how Mr. Kruchten had hidden one of his axes under his coat, and the vampires had been too close for Quentin to use his crossbow, they had defeated the vampires rather quickly.

As Kendra and Quentin studied the ashes falling to the ground, Mr. Kruchten leaned forward, hands on his knees and the ax dripping blood beside his shoe. "Oh, I feel about a century too old to be doing this sort of thing every night. I should have met a Slayer when I was younger, this would have been great fun when I was a reckless young man."

"And how long ago was that, Richard?" Quentin teased.

"Too long ago. Now, don't we have better things to be doing here than poking into just how old one old man might be?" He grumbled.

"True enough, my apologies," Quentin smiled, before asking, "So was the Queen pretty in her youth?"

"If you mean her Royal Majesty Elizabeth the Second, yes, she was rather pretty in her youth. She took rather strongly after her mother. Another striking woman, I must admit," he sighed, and only Kendra caught his soft "Not that she was a patch on Victoria. Now she was a beautiful young queen…"

Kendra stumbled at that, wondering just how old Mr. Kruchten really was, and if Richard Kruchten was his actual name or simply a current convenience. Perhaps it didn't really matter. Though if he was old enough to know what Queen Victoria looked like in her youth… unless he was simply making a joke about his age? Would he make a joke about such a thing? Could he be that old? Though if his mutation was a prolonged lifespan… Was that any stranger than running on wall, seeing auras, or having blue skin?

"We have a patrol to continue," Kendra tried to push all thoughts of Mr. Richard Kruchten's true age or identity from her mind. He was quite right; now wasn't the time for such things.

End part 47.

They had spent another four hours patrolling the city. While they hadn't found any other ogres, they had found several more vampires, some ghouls, a rat the size of a Doberman with glowing yellow eyes and two tails, and a strange very bony woman with milky white eyes who had watched them and vanished right before their eyes. They hadn't been sure if she had been a mutant or a currently non-hostile demon, as Quentin had put it.

They had returned to the car beside the library, all of them sporting a few bruises and scrapes, though nothing serious. By that point they had been quite ready to return to the mansion and Quentin no longer doubted Kendra's claim of being the… or at least a Slayer. The way several of the vampires had snarled, calling her 'Slayer' and howling graphic death threats seemed rather compelling evidence to the Watcher. Besides if the vampires counted Kendra as a Slayer, why should he argue the point?

Kendra had been quite willing to concede that there might well be a Slayer in Prague. She'd also willingly admitted that the whole chain of events was rather beyond easy description, and full of abnormalities. Any means of gaining a better understanding that didn't involve causing her greater problems or potentially unleashing dangerous magical forces would be welcome.

And Richard Kruchten wanted to go patrolling with her again next week. He didn't think he'd be up for it every patrol, but once or twice a week, in his words, 'might be good for me and keep me from getting old before my time.'

Quentin had laughed at that, mumbling that it seemed well past time for Richard to be old.

With some laughing, they all separated to their various rooms. Kendra stayed up a while longer, cleaning her weapons and wondering if Quentin would stay, if she would have a Watcher now. Reflecting on the benefits of knowledgeable assistance on a patrol. Wondering if such assistance had helped Buffy to survive.

Deciding to think about it all later, Kendra took a quick shower and went to bed.

Once again, she dreamed of the ocean, where a pair of Fyarl demons dueled with swords at the water's edge, waves lapping at their ankles. Further from the water, a thin man holding a platter of cheese watched, his expression suggesting polite boredom. Accepting a piece of cheese sent her to a cemetery, where a group of vampires were chanting, a large display of red candles and circles made of blood and herbs surrounding a grave while other vampires dragged a screaming teenager and an equally screaming vampire closer. A vampire in a blood red robe waited with a bronze knife. And then there was a marketplace, with old buildings built of stone and bricks, interspersed with tents and people in long robes. Children and perhaps pickpockets dodged about, and the language was not one that Kendra recognized. One man looked up, and his light brown face flickered, momentarily overset with a dark shadow in which there was a wide, sharp-toothed smile and glowing yellow eyes.

Kendra awoke with a gasp. After a few moments to regain her bearings, she opened her dream journal and immediately started scribbling down her dream or perhaps vision. The vampires in the cemetery might connect with the plot to revive the Great Lord of the Dead. She had no idea what the overshadowing menacing face might mean, but doubted it was anything good. And Fyarls with swords… Fyarls were often violent and impulsive, though they generally didn't eat humans. Not that killing the humans and not eating them was any better for the human's health, but still…

Her thoughts were wandering as she made her way down to the kitchen. She wasn't sure if there would still be food out, though she suspected that it was too late for breakfast and a bit early for lunch. She gathered a few portable things for a light breakfast and made her way to the gardens to sit and think while eating. The fresh air, even if it was cooler and carried completely different scents than home, would help.

She was a Slayer. She could no more deny her Calling than a fish could breathe the air. She would be a Slayer until she died, perhaps, considering Buffy, even afterwards. She had responsibilities.

The responsibilities of a Slayer would make having any sort of normal life, which Buffy had so passionately craved, difficult at best. Dating would be more difficult, and a relationship with someone who didn't understand her need to continue her duties would be doomed.

Even if Charles wasn't dating the charming Victoria Grey, he didn't accept what being a Slayer meant. There was also the undeniable fact that their backgrounds were completely different, as evidenced by this family mansion.

There would be no happy future with sweet kisses between herself and Charles Xavier, no matter how tempting a few dreams had made the idea seem. She needed to let that infatuation die. She might need to help it along; as a Slayer, she knew dozens of ways to kill things. Shouldn't that include inappropriate feelings?

She felt a little better that she had found some help, even if Quentin and Richard Kruchten wouldn't be patrolling with her every night. She would have help in sorting out what needed to be done.

Equally comforting, this place was making a strong case for her also being Miss Kendra as well as Kendra the Vampire Slayer. She could have friends, have interests outside of Slaying. Perhaps, someday, she might find a boyfriend. Might have the chance to consider marriage, perhaps even… perhaps even a family. Though she was quite getting ahead of herself with such thoughts.

Kendra finished her food, and considered her dreams. Fyarls sword fighting in the surf. She'd need to vary her patrol routes to see how far the beach was from here, and see if she could identify the section of beach from her dream, which might not be possible. The vampires and their circle… disturbing. Perhaps she should copy out that section and see about contacting that sorcerer, Doctor Strange. Assuming she could find the card he'd given her. The marketplace and the overshadowed man… she was at a loss for anything that she could do about that.

With a sigh, Kendra returned the dishes to the kitchen. She had a card to find, and a sorcerer to contact. Hopefully she could trust him, at least enough that he'd oppose any vampires plotting resurrections.

It took a while to find the card. Gold letters proclaimed Dr. Strange – Sorcerer. Golden curlicues that reminded her of the patterning around his cape filled the corners. There was also a telephone number. Slowly, Kendra dialed the number, hoping that he wouldn't laugh or be annoyed at her mention of 'I had a dream…'

End part 48.


End file.
